City of Trouble
by hamsiidris
Summary: [ALL HUMAN] A Clace fanfic involving irritating older brothers, difficult roommates, mangoes and a duck or two... When Jonathan's best friend, Jace, moves into their flat, Clary is horrified. As if putting up with one annoying boy wasn't enough, now she has to handle two. Not to mention the fact that she can't stand Jace any further than she can throw him. Which is not far. At all.
1. My Brother the Idiot

**Chapter One: My Brother the Idiot**

"Jonathan _Christopher _Morgenstern, you are soo dead!" I screamed, storming into my brother's room, holding my ruined sketchbook out in front of me.

"Clary?" He lowered his phone from his ear and glared at me. "I'm busy." He gestured frantically for me to get out, but I ignored him, folding my arms and glaring at him from the doorway. "Just a sec," he said, into his phone, before tossing it on the bed and turning to face me. "What the hell, Clary?" he whined. "You're ruining -"

"My sketchbook is the only thing that's ruined!" I yelled, waving it in his face.

"So?"

"So?!" I gasped, whacking him with the book. "So you ruined it!"

He picked it up, frowning at the soggy pages. "What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me?" I asked, standing up on tiptoe so I could get up in his face. "It was on the table when I went out. And now it's…"

Jonathan sighed, pushing me away. "It's just water, Clarissa."

My eyes bugged out. "Just water?!"

Jon shaded his eyes with his hands, shaking his head. "Look, I'll buy you a new one. Just get out."

"What about the drawings?" I protested.

"Out," Jonathan pushed me away, propelling me out the door. "Just leave me alone for five minutes, honestly."

He snapped the door closed in my face. I heard the sound of the door being bolted from the other side, and Jon quietly resuming his phone call.

Still fuming, I stormed back into the kitchen of our shared apartment, determined to get revenge on my bird-brained brother for all his crimes. I'd been working on that sketchbook all year, not to mention the fact that I was going to have to redo that assignment for art class now. I couldn't trust my brother on his own for five minutes. Not with any of my stuff.

It would be easier if we didn't have to _share _a flat, but my parents - specifically my overprotective dad - were pretty insistent about that. It suits Jon and I, though, because as long as we're rooming together, my parents have agreed to pay, which makes things a lot easier.

Aside from the fact that it means that I still have to look at my brother's stupid face everyday.

I thought I'd be done with that by the time I got to university. But no. I was tragically mistaken.

As I poured myself a bowl of cereal and sat on one of the chairs, clearing a spot on the table by pushing away a load of books, junk and literal rubbish that my brother couldn't be bothered to deal with. When I first moved in, I made an effort to clean the flat, but I gave up pretty quickly. I'd spend my Sunday tidying up, and then Jon would have gotten everything out againg by Monday morning. He is literally impossible to live with.

My brother's door clicked open from across the hall just as I finished my bowl of cereal and dumped it in the sink.

"Clary?"

"What?" I growled, stuffing my books into my satchel and heading for the door.

"I'm sorry. About that sketchbook."

I froze, turning around slowly. "What?" I asked, incredulously.

He looked slightly impatient. "I'm sorry."

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked, nervously. Jonathan generally had the sensitivity of a sledgehammer, and was no more modest than I am tall - which, tragically, I must admit that I'm really not. Jon never apologised, mostly because he was so selfish and narcissistic that he would never admit that he had done something wrong.

I glared at him suspiciously. He definitely wasn't just being nice - he doesn't really do that kind of thing. Not where I'm concerned, anyway.

"I'm fine." His patience was clearly disintegrating now. "Really, Clary. I'll buy you a new one."

"Really?"

He nodded, sincerely, placing a hand over his heart. "I swear on the Morgenstern name that I will buy you a new sketchbook."

"And pencils? Good ones, not those crappy crayons you got me last Christmas."

Jonathan looked pained. "And pencils."

Wow. He definitely wanted something.

"So it's okay?" he asked, apprehensively.

Not really, but I did want those pencils… "Yeah. It's okay. For now."

Jonathan smiled. "Great! See you, Clary."

Shaking my head, I stepped out of the flat and started down the stairs. Jonathan was definitely up to something. I just hoped that I wasn't going to be involved in another of his idiotic plans.

-0-

"Clary, are you even listening," my friend, Isabelle, asked, whacking me on the arm with her pencil. "Clary!"

"Uh huh," I glanced up at her, frowning. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. How's your brother…?" She smiled almost imperceptibly, her blue eyes flashing.

"No." I was horrified. "No. We've been over this already."

"What?" She rolled her eyes. "Jonathan is _hot_. That's all I'm saying."

"He's my brother," I reminded her, firmly. "And a total idiot. But _my brother_. How would you feel if I went all gooey over Alec?"

She laughed, brushing off the comment. "I'm afraid your love for my brother would never be returned, Clary darling. I thought you would have worked that ago that out by now. You went to the party Magnus had for their 'anniversary' didn't you?"

"How could I forget?" I shuddered, the image of Magnus in a sparkly suit jacket and _no pants _branded in my mind forever. Luckily, he'd consented to wear underwear, but that was still definitely not something I needed to see.

Isabelle laughed, crumpling up her fourth attempt at the essay she was supposed to be writing and tossing it at the nearest bin. It landed just a few centimetres short, and, grumbling loudly, Isabelle hauled herself to her feet and went to pick it up.

A twinkling sound echoed through the library - the sound of the door being opened. I sat up straighter, craning my neck to see who had just come in.

"It must be Simon…" I murmured, trying to see over the bookshelves, which is hard enough to do when I'm standing up.

Isabelle, in her six inch heels, however, had no problem with it. "It's the Jedi," she confirmed, rolling her eyes. "Late, as usual."

Sure enough, a few seconds later, my best friend, Simon Lewis emerged from behind the tall bookshelf, grinning.

"Simon," I greeted. Isabelle folded her arms and took her seat, winding her golden bracelet around her wrist.

"Hey Clary. Isabelle."

Simon smiled at Isabelle through his thick frames glasses, his hair ruffled over on one side like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wore plain blue jeans and a simple black t-shirt with the words '_May the F=MA Be With You,' _which, knowing Simon was some Star Wars thing, but not obvious enough for mere mortals like us to understand.

In other words, he looked the opposite of Izzy's type, who tend - God forbid - to be more like my brother. Which is pretty unfortunate, considering that Simon has been chasing after Isabelle Lightwood since he could walk.

Isabelle had already turned away from Simon, turning back to the paper in front of her. Simon took the seat next to her, digging his own homework and a large, dusty looking calculator out of his bag.

"Why did I ever sign up for this?" Isabelle moaned, twirling one of her two long, French braids around her finger. "I don't want to be a lawyer anymore."

I groaned inwardly. We had been having this conversation for literally months, ever since our first year of university started, nearly four months ago. In that short amount of time, Isabelle had swapped courses at least four times. She had originally planned to study medicine or something like that, but she got bored pretty quickly. Then it was architecture. That didn't last long. To be fair, I don't think any desk job, or even _inside _job would last long with Isabelle. It's hard to imagine her working at all, taking life seriously. She'd never agree to spending her life behind a desk. Which means law is pretty much out of the question. Honestly, I've been expecting her to drop it for a while now.

I guess it was easier for me. I'd always known what I wanted to be. Well, okay. There was that time when I was six, when I wanted to be a unicorn, but I grew out of that pretty quickly. I always wanted to be an artist, like my mom. I'd loved drawing since the day I first held a pencil in my chubby little baby hand, and I'd never wanted anything more.

And here I was.

Ignoring Izzy's whining, I turning back to my homework, stroking the cover of my sketchbook fondly before flipping it open. I guess my homework was somewhat less dull than Simon and Izzy's, but hey. It wasn't my fault they had chosen dull subjects.

As I clutched my graphite pencil in my hand and tried to work out what I was going to draw next, Simon and Isabelle continued arguing like an old married couple. _In Simon's dreams..._ I rolled my eyes, trying not to tsk at Simon's attempts. Picking a fight with Isabelle Lightwood wasn't going to win him any points in terms of her nonexistent attraction to him. And convincing her that maybe she should _stick with her course this time _wasn't going to get him anywhere either.

Simon, oblivious to my mental plea for him to stop, ran a hand through his hair, glasses slightly askew on the end of his nose. "Come on, Iz. It can't be that bad."

"If I wanted to talk to my mum, I would've called her," Isabelle moaned, crumpling her paper into a ball again and lobbing it at the bin.

Simon flinched slightly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. _God, he was hopeless…_

Isabelle however, wasn't paying attention, as usual. This time, her gaze was fixed on the door, which had just opened with a jangling of bells.

"Clary," she murmured, still staring straight ahead.

I followed her gaze slightly nervously, my eyes resting on the new arrival to the library. The most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life.

Okay, that's not as much of a compliment as it sounds. I mean, he _was _gorgeous, but in a way that was almost… I don't know, feminine? His skin was almost freakishly pale, in stark contrast to his dark mop of hair that tumbled across his shoulders. He was tall and slender, with sculpted, slightly elfen features. He moved like a cat, soundless and graceful.

"Now he is _hot_," Isabelle sighed, tearing her gaze away from him long enough to guage my reaction.

Simon frowned, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That's Meliorn Fae. He's in my class…" Simon admitted, jealously.

Isabelle didn't answer. She was too busy staring.

"Meliorn…" she murmured after a second.

"Izzy?" Simon protested, desperately trying to get her attention. "Iz?"

Isabelle finally looked at him, annoyed. "What?"

As Simon struggled to find something to say, I tried not to roll my eyes again. Now _this _was why I avoided romance, generally speaking. There was that one guy called Sebastian in year eleven, but that was definitely not something I didn't want to think about. In fact, I would have preferred to forget the whole thing. Well, that's not strictly true. I'd rather it never happened at all… Some things, you just can't unsee.

Watching my friends here was just another reason for me not to date under any circumstances. Ever. Or fall for anyone who was way out of my league, like Simon had. Or fall for anyone in general. It just wasn't worth the trouble.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Soo... Chapter One O.o I hope you guys like it! And please ignore the description, I literally cannot write them... Apologies also for the ending... It's a little bit anticlimactic, I know. Anyway, thanks for reading and giving this fic a chance! The next chapter will include Jace, Clary and a frying pan...so stay tuned :)<strong>


	2. Roommates and Robbers

**Chapter Two: Roommates and Robbers**

I dumped my bag on the floor and kicked off my boots, leaving them scattered across the floor. "I'm home!" I called, my voice echoing in the narrow hallway.

No answer. That wasn't unusual, given that Jonathan was always on his headphones, and could never be bothered to answer anyway. Besides, I could hear someone cursing loudly from across the flat. The idiot was home. And apparently pretty damn ticked off about something, judging by the language he was using.

I followed the sound into the kitchen, which connected to our tiny living room, where my brother was kneeling in front of the TV, trying to untangle the wires that spilled out from behind the screen. I opened my mouth to question the verbal abuse that he was giving the poor telly, before something hit me like a truck, knocking the wind out of my lungs as I stifled a gasp. My hand flew to my mouth and I ducked under the kitchen counter, my eyes bugging out.

I crouched behind the counter, my heart pounding.

That wasn't Jonathan. That wasn't my brother's voice. That wasn't my brother's hair, more gold than silvery like Jonathan's. He was dressed simply in black jeans and a T-shirt, not unlike Jonathan's typical outfits, but there was no mistaking it.

_That is _not _Jonathan._

I tried to stay calm, taking a deep breath. Okay. There was a strange man in my house. I craned my neck to look at him, nearly falling over in the process. Well. There was a strange man in my house trying to steal my TV. This was getting out of hand.

I reached for the nearest thing on the counter above my head, scrabbling around until my fingers closed around a plastic handle. I drew it towards me. A frying pan.

_Nice Clary. A frying pan. _A knife would have been more useful, but this was going to have to do. I pulled it off the counter, getting ready for my attack.

And ended up pulling a pile of dirty cutlery off with it.

I cringed as forks and spoons rained down on me. A couple of them landed right on my head, but most of them just crashed on the hard floor tiles with a crash loud enough to get my brother out of bed in the morning.

I held my breath as the man spun around. "Who's there?" he demanded.

_There goes the element of surprise…_

Now that I could see his face, I couldn't understand how I had _ever_ mistaken him for Jonathan. Sure, they were both tall and blonde, but the similarities ended there. I mean, this guy was something else. His golden hair framed his face in gentle waves, and his eyes matched the shade almost exactly, a luminous golden-brown. He was tall and lean and undeniably athletic, with light golden tanned skin and a sinewy, muscular frame under his thin T-shirt.

I tore my eyes away from him, scolding myself internally. Jeez, I was turning into Isabelle. This guy was robbing my house, for god's sake.

We both froze, neither of us daring to so much as breath. For a heart stopping moment, I thought he had seen me.

"Who…?" he repeated, uncertainty.

So he hadn't seen me. I let out a breath that I had been holding for what seemed like ages, clutching my frying pan tighter.

After a long pause, the man stepped closer.

I couldn't take it anymore. I panicked.

With a wild battle cry, I leapt out from behind the counter, charging towards the burglar, frying pan in hand. He seemed totally paralysed, freezing as I ran straight towards him. He didn't react until seconds before I collided with him, sidestepping my attack easily.

"Yaaa!" I screamed, raising the frying pan and whacking him hard in the stomach.

He yelped in pain, his voice rising by about four octaves. I raised the pan again, but he grabbed my wrist, twisting it none too gently and sending the pan flying across the room. I screamed again, attempting to punch him, but he held me off him easily. Desperately, I kicked him in the kneecap and he set go, stumbling backwards.

"What the hell is your problem?" he gasped.

"_My problem?_" I spat, leaping towards him and clawing at his face.

As my fingernails gouged the skin above his perfectly sculpted cheekbones, he snapped, grabbing my arms and forcing me off him, pinning me against the wall.

"Get off me you vile, repulsive…" I ranted at him, struggling to tear myself out of his grip.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes wide with shock.

They were even more brilliant up close, but I forced myself not to think about that. This really wasn't going to plan. None of this made sense.

"What am I doing?" I protested, squirming under his grip. "Leave me alone. Please, just go. I won't call the police, I promise. It's a crappy TV anyway," I blabbed, not really sure of what to say. "Next door's one is much better."

Now he _really _looked confused. "What? Police…?"

"Yes," I snapped. "I can change my mind, you know. I'll phone 999. What are you doing in _my flat _you...you...thief?!"

His eyes widened slightly. "You live here?"

"Yes," I snapped. "You chose the wrong flat to rob. You'll be sorry." They were empty threats, but I was desperate.

His frown deepened. After pausing for a minute, he seemed to make up his mind. "I live here. But…"

My eyes bugged out, and we both said the next words at the same time, his tone calm and confused and mine about eight times as loud and panicked: "You're not Jonathan!"

Then we paused.

The man - or boy, really - was the first to speak, his tone amused. "No, I'm Jace. Jace Herondale. Not Jonathan. I thought that was fairly obvious. I mean, look at him…"

_Jace Herondale… _Why did the name sound familiar?

I glared at him. "What, and you thought _I _was Jonathan?"

He frowned. "No. I thought you were…" He sized me up for a moment and I suddenly became aware that I barely came up to his chest. "An insane eight year old with a frying pan." I scowled, but he ignored me. "I didn't think you were Jonathan. But this is his flat and all…"

"_Half_ his flat," I corrected. "We share it." Jace smirked, and I quickly added, "He's my brother."

Jace's eyes widened. "Jonathan didn't say anything about a sister."

I glowered at him. "Yeah? Well he didn't say anything about a TV stealing maniac either. _And you still haven't answered my question_. Why are you here? How do you know Jonathan."

"One at a time," Jace protested, grinning. "You're brother's an old friend of mine. We were best friends in Primary School, actually."

My eyes widened. _Oh no. No no no no no. No way._

"Not _that _Jace Herondale," I gasped.

It seemed to hit him at the same time as it did me, his eyes bugging out. "You're that little brat who broke my brand new _Hot Wheels _set when I was six."

"_I'm _a brat?" I gasped. "You -" I glared at him, at his hands, which were still pinning me tightly to the wall. "For the last time, what the hell are you doing in my flat?"

Jace opened his mouth to answer, but there was no need.

My useless brother chose that minute to walk into the room, glancing up from his phone. For a few seconds he just stared. First at the forks all over the floor, then at the frying pan. Then at me, wedged between Jace and the wall. "What the hell…?"

Jace sprang away from me as though he'd been burned, landing casually on the sofa, like nothing had ever happened. "Hey, Jon," he greeted. "You never told me you had a sister."

If anything, Jonathan looked even more suspicious, folding his arms as I took a seat on the chair furthest from Jace, rubbing my arms where he had grabbed them.

"She attacked me," Jace continued. "With a frying pan."

After a second, Jon broke into a smirk. "Well, Clary. I see you've met our new roommate."


	3. The Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Chapter Three: The Isty Bitsy Spider**

"No way!" I yelled, leaping to my feet.

Jonathan smiled calmly. "Clarissa, please…"

"You're kidding, right?" I folded my arms. "I can't - I refuse to share with him. I'll move out. You'll have to…" Suddenly, a thought occurred to me and I smirked slightly, eying Jace, who was sprawled across the sofa, arms folded defiantly. "Does mum know about this?"

Jonathan paled slightly, and I knew I had struck the right note. "You won't tell her Clary."

I laughed maniacally. "You can't stop me, Jonathan."

He frowned. "Listen, please, you have to keep this...to yourself. I mean, I'm sure she wouldn't object, but…"

I smirked. "Yes she would. Her daughter sharing a flat with a strange man who -"

At this point, Jace interrupted. "I'm not a strange man. I'm your stunningly attractive new roommate -"

"Who is a strange man that I don't know."

"So you don't deny that I'm stunningly attractive?"

I paused, a mixture of anger and embarrassment making my cheeks heat up. "No! I never said that. I was just…"

Jace smirked, and I itched to whack him with my frying pan again. I probably would have, if it hadn't been just out of reach, on the sofa next to Jace.

"My point was that mum is never going to let this happen."

Jonathan lunged for me, grabbing the neck of my T-shirt and pulling me towards him. He had to lean over so we stood perfectly eye to eye, so close that the pale, celery green of his iris was blurry and impossible to focus on. "Yes she will," he growled, dangerously. "Because she won't know."

"I'm going to tell her, Jon," I responded, pushing him away. "You can't stop me."

He released me, and I folded my arms glaring up at him.

"Clary." He took a deep breath, before trying a gentler approach. "Come on. You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't do that to _your brother._"

I rolled my eyes. "Enough drama, Jon. This whole thing is ridiculous enough anyway. How can you expect me to just go along with it? This is as much my flat as it is yours!"

Jonathan pulled a puppy-dog face, but I ignored it, which was easy enough, considering that he's about as cute as a bloated bulldog with dental issues. "Please Clary."

I shook my head. "Forget about it."

"Please Clary." The words were the same, but the voice definitely wasn't. I turned slightly to look at Jace, who was now sitting up, and giving me the most pathetic pleading look I'd ever seen. "Come on, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be… I just -"

"Look, Jace…" I wavered for a moment. His puppy-dog face happened to be a _lot _more convincing than Jonathan's, but I forced the thought out of my mind. "No-o. Sorry, Jace. I can't. I'll have to tell her."

"No you won't." Jonathan sounded confident, and I glanced at him slightly nervously. He'd dropped the desperate act, and his cocky smirk was slightly unnerving.

"Oh yeah?" I countered, weakly.

He smiled, his eyes glittering. "If you do… I'll her about Sebastian. The _whole _story."

I gulped. Oh dear god. What was worse? My mother finding out about the whole story of my complicated relationship with Sebastian, which, as I said, was not something I ever wanted to think about again, or having to share a flat with my brother's cocky, good for nothing best friend?

Jonathan's smirk widened. He knew he had me.

I swallowed, making my decision. "Fine," I snapped. "Fine. He can stay." Jace grinned, leaning back and swinging his legs back onto the sofa. My heart sank as a thought occurred to me, and I turned to Jonathan. Our flat was a decent size, but we only had two bedrooms. "Where's he going to sleep?"

One thing was for sure. There was no way I was giving up my bedroom.

Jonathan grinned. "You offering, sister dear?" My eyes widened and he laughed, shrugging. "Nah. I've got a spare mattress in my room - Jordan donated it to the cause. He's leaving this year, and he didn't want it. Don't worry, Clarissa. We've got it all sorted out."

I nodded reluctantly, avoiding Jace's eyes as though that would somehow make him disappear. "Good. I'm not covering your sorry backside anymore."

Jon shrugged. "Fine by me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower." He tossed his phone onto the sofa and stood up, stretching. "Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone." As Jonathan sauntered towards the bathroom, he paused and turned around, his eyes softening slightly. "Thanks, Clary." For a moment, he was sincere, but it was over before I could properly acknowledge it. "You made the right decision, sis."

The bathroom door slammed behind him.

-0-

I stepped into the shower, dropping my towel on the bathroom mat. It was rare to find a time when Jonathan was not occupying the bathroom, either for one of his decade long showers or for some vain activity that I really didn't need to know about, so I was taking advantage of the situation.

I reached towards the shower handle, sidestepping the freezing jet of water that sprayed out. When it warmed up enough, I stepped into it, letting the water trickle over my head and soak into my hair.

As I lathered a blob of shampoo into my hair, I sang softly under my breath. My habit of singing in the shower tended to irritate my brother, but I never really cared. After all, he does it too - who doesn't? I thought we had a frog infestation in our bathroom for months, before I realised it was just Jon.

As I reached the end of the song, my hair frothy and covered in bubbles by now, I turned around to set the bottle of shampoo back on the ledge.

That was when I saw it.

The biggest spider I had ever seen in my entire life. The kind of big that you see on Discovery channel or in a world record book. And it was right here, under our shower head.

I tried not to scream, grabbing the handle and turning the shower off, in case the spider - if you could even call it that - didn't like water. I didn't want to give it any reason to move closer to me.

I stood, frozen, as a drip of water dropped out of the shower head, landing on the wall just above the spider. I watched in slow motion as it slowly trickled down the wall, until it hit the fuzzy front legs of Mr. Spider.

The spider twitched, slightly, extending one thick foreleg and I shrieked loudly, stumbling backwards and forcing the plastic screen open. Totally panicked, I tripped over the ledge and went flying across the bathroom floor.

I didn't stay down for long. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the thought that the spider might be chasing me, but I was back on my feet in under a second, wrapping my towel tightly around me and knotting it as I raced out of the bathroom door.

I ran straight into something warm, solid, and very much alive.

I screamed again, almost tripping over as the person I had just run into held out their arms to steady me. I just about managed to catch myself before I hit the ground, hauling myself back to my feet. It wasn't my most graceful move, no.

Now that my life was no longer in danger, I finally looked up at the person who I had just smacked into.

Naturally, the first thing I saw where the eyes. The deep, luminous gold eyes that were crinkled slightly in a mixture of concern and amusement.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. I was suddenly conscious of the fact that I was practically naked, wrapped only in a towel that came up to about mid-thigh, dripping wet and _holding Jace Herondale's hands. _Neither of us moved, or even breathed for a couple of seconds, suspended in a moment of shock.

Then I let go, scrambling backwards.

"Hey, Titch?" Jace smirked, eying my towel. "Everything okay?"

"What?" I gasped, for lack of anything better to say.

Jace snorted. "I thought you were dying or something, so I thought I'd better check… Jonathan probably wouldn't appreciate it if I let you die. But, then again, I might get your bedroom, instead of having to put up with Jon's apocalyptic snoring…"

"Where's Jonathan?" I interrupted, my voice still a little shaky.

"He's not here…" Jace shrugged. "He left about an hour ago. Said he was meeting… Kaelie?"

"He's not here?!" I echoed, my voice rising a couple of octaves.

"What do you need him for?" Jace asked, casually leaning against the wall and folding his arms. "Anything Jon can do, I can do a thousand times better." He flushed slightly, pausing to consider his words. "I mean, like, if you need anything. I can help. That's what flatmates are for."

I resisted the urge to point out that we most certainly were not 'mates' of any sort, swallowing my pride. I awkwardly tugged down my towel, wrapping my arms around myself to make sure it didn't come undone. His shirt was damp and slightly bubbly from where we'd collided, but he didn't seem to notice much.

Could I face the humiliation of asking Jace Herondale for help? On the one hand, that would just inflate his ego. But there was still soap in my hair, and no way was I going to step into that bathroom again while that _thing _was still there. Taking a deep breath, I answered him, my voice rushed and panicky. "Theresaspiderintheshoweranditsfreakingmassive."

"What?" Jace looked confused.

"There is a spider in the shower and it is freaking massive," I repeated, more slowly this time.

Jace paused for a second, eyebrows raised slightly, before breaking into a cocky smirk. "A spider. All that screaming was because of a spider?"

I flushed. "It was a big spider!"

Jace laughed. "Sure it was."

"Will you...get rid of it?" I asked, weakly, gesturing to the bathroom. If I had to ask him, I was sure as hell going to make him go through with it.

Jace shrugged. "No problem. You have a cup or something."

"In the kitchen."

Sighing, Jace disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a cup and a magazine, leading the way into the bathroom. "So. Where's this _vicious _beast, then?"

I glared at him, stepping gingerly towards the shower. "It was in there. Under the shower head."

Jace nodded, ducking under the low frame of the screen and disappearing into the shower.

I waited one second. Two seconds. Three…

After about ten very long seconds, Jace stepped back out again, empty handed, his eyes wide open as if he'd just seen a ghost. Or a very massive spider.

"Bl**dy hell," he said, flatly. "That is not a spider. It's a freaking tarantula."

"A tarantula's a type of spider, idiot," I muttered, stepping a little closer. "Are you going to get rid of it?"

Jace hesitated for a moment, but, eventually, his ego won out. He shrugged. "Sure."

After about a minute, he paused, calling over his shoulder, "Clary?"

"Yeah?" I paused. No Titch. No Midge. No Carrot - or 'Clarrot' which Jace seemed to think was totally ingenious. Just Clary. Was he feeling okay?

"It's too high."

Crap.

In spite of myself, I snorted. "How hard is it to admit that?"

"Admit what?" He didn't sound particularly amused.

"That you're not tall enough?"

Silence. After a moment, I stepped a little closer. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

Jace handed me the shower head. "It moved up the wall. Can't reach it. When I say three, you spray it with the shower, okay? Then I'll catch it. Got it."

I gulped. "Sure."

"One…" Jace paused, glancing nervously at me. "Two… Three."

On three, I quickly flipped the handle and aimed the shower head at the spider. The water arched up towards it, hitting its target perfectly. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to appreciate my accuracy.

Because the spider, panicked and now soaking wet, leapt off the wall towards us.

There was a scream, and a loud crash and then we were running, scrambling for the door. I'm not even sure who's scream it was at this point, but I suspect it was Jace, although it was high pitched enough to be mine.

We tumbled out the door in a blind panic, crashing out into the hallway, now both dripping wet after I'd dropped the shower in terror.

Crouched on the carpet and panting, we were a pretty pathetic pair. I gasped for air, every inch of my skin crawling as though a thousand spiders were scuttling up and down my body. I shuddered, forcing myself to my feet.

Jace exhaled loudly, in a weird combination of a nervous laugh and something like a dry sob. "Jesus," he gasped.

After a moment, staring at the top of his bowed blonde head, I felt myself crack into a smile. Naturally the smile progressed into a laugh, and I had to steady myself on the nearest wall to keep from doubling over.

Jace stared up at me out of those irresistible golden eyes, looking like a reproachful weasel or something along those lines. Maybe a honey badger, or a ferret. Something small and incredibly helpless looking.

"Nice scream, big guy," I snorted.

Jace scowled. "I didn't scream. It was...a battle cry."

I sniggered. "Right." Then something occurred to me and I glanced at his hands. My eyes widened as I lifted my gaze back to his face. "Where is it?"

"What?" Jace glanced down at his hands. He wasn't even holding the cup anymore, just a soggy sheet of magazine paper clenched in his hands. "Oh. That."

"You didn't get it?" My voice rose a couple of octaves.

"Why do you think I was running, genius," Jace snapped, confirming my fears.

For a moment, we both just stared at each other.

"We can wait for Jon," I said, weakly.

Jace paused, considering it, before standing up shakily. "No. I'm not going to run crying to your brother because I couldn't catch some stupid spider," he snorted. "We can do this." Then he paused, glancing at me. "We're going to need another cup."

"And some more paper."

"And possibly a baseball bat, while you're at it."

"I don't own a flipping baseball bat."

Jace shrugged. "There's a textbook on my bed. That should be fine."

I nodded. Good. A plan of attack. We were going to make that spider sorry he ever invaded my shower.

"Oh, and Titch?" Jace called after me as I headed for the kitchen to grab the supplies. "Maybe some bug spray?"

"You want a cup of tea as well?" I rolled my eyes.

"That would be nice," Jace nodded. "But I don't drink while I'm hunting."

"How about a punch in the face?"

"Just the bug spray, thanks."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haha, hope you guys like this. I enjoyed writing it :)<strong>

**Poor Jacey's ego has been dented...**

**So, the whole spider thing was kinda sorta based on a true story that happened with my sister and I. (Yes, I ran to my little sister for help when I found a spider in the shower -_- BUT IT WAS BIG!) Then she sprayed it and it moved and we screamed really loudly and ran away as fast as we could. Yeah, it was an interesting experience...**


	4. Spiders and Saviours

**Chapter Four: Spiders and Saviours**

I crouched under the sink, Jace's heavy textbook in hand.

Jace stood opposite me, holding a can of bug spray and a cup, his eyes fixed on something in the shower cubicle.

"Ready?" he asked, turning to face me.

Luckily, I'd remembered to change out of my towel and into an old, baby blue dressing gown that I haven't worn since I was about twelve - but was somehow still in my cupboard. The little towel wasn't exactly spider hunting gear, especially considering that it was about as concealing as a dish cloth.

I nodded, holding the textbook out in front of me and waiting for Jace's cue.

"Three…"

"Three?" I interrupted. "But you said 'on three.'"

Jace stared at me for a second, before sighing loudly and rolling his eyes. "On one then."

"Three. Two. One."

Jace leapt forward, bug spray at the ready. I watched him disappear into the shower before following. I was technically just supposed to be backup, in case Jace couldn't catch or kill it, but there was no way I was missing out. On the situation, I mean. I was perfectly happy to just stand there with the book, but the scene was too priceless to miss. Especially after hearing Jace's 'battle cry' earlier. If only I had a camera… Or even just a voice recorder.

"Is it there?" I asked, craning my neck to see over his shoulder.

"On the ceiling," Jace replied. "I can't catch it, so I'll have to spray it."

I nodded. I was beyond caring what happened to this spider as long as it disappeared.

"You helping, Titch?" Jace hissed.

_Oh. Right. _

I stepped into the shower trying not to stand directly under the spider and holding the textbook up. It was just starting to make my arms ache a little, considering that it weighed practically as much as me, but I didn't want to give Jace even more of a reason to call me 'Titch.'

Before I could react, Jace swung the bug spray towards the ceiling and pressed the nozzle. With a loud hiss, the spider was engulfed in fog.

With one last, violent jab of the nozzle, Jace backed away. We waited with bated breath, watching the dark shape on the ceiling.

"Don't dead spiders fall?" Jace asked, after a moment. "Does bug spray even -"

"Wait," I cut in. "Just give him a second."

"To die?" Jace sounded amused.

I glanced down from the ceiling to answer, but never got a chance to answer. Jace gasped loudly, cutting me off, and I glanced up again just in time to see something large, black and hairy land on top of my head.

After a millisecond of total silence, my brain finally functioned enough to work out what had just happened.

_Spider._

With a scream far more terrifying than any of the previous ones I leapt into attack mode, shaking my head frantically to get rid of the thing - the uncomfortably fuzzy thing - that had just landed in my hair.

My arms were flailing uselessly along with pretty much the rest of my body as I panicked, crashing into Jace, who stood behind me, watching in total shock.

I kept screaming for the entire time, which could have been anywhere from several minutes to just a couple of seconds. I didn't really care. It was far too long, in my opinion.

Finally, someone grabbed my wrists and held them in a vice like grip. I slumped forward in defeat, burying my head in something warm and soft. After a moment, my wrists were released. A hand brushed the top of my head lightly, and there was a soft thump on the plastic floor.

"Is it gone?" I tried for a whisper, but it ended up being more of a hysterical shriek.

After a moment of silence, Jace replied. "It's gone."

I took a deep breath, my knees shaking a little from the terror of the moment. That was when I remembered where I was, and, more importantly, who I was so comfortable leaning on.

I sprang backwards, nearly stepping on the dead spider that lay on the ground at my feet. I could feel my cheeks heating up - probably camouflaging with my hair by now.

I expected Jace to smirk, or deliver some stupid quipp about my hair or size, but he just stood for a moment, his eyes focused on my face with none of their usual arrogance. To my surprise, his cheeks were slightly pink - no where near as red-hot as mine, but tinged with the slightest flush.

After an awkward silence, he broke into a grin, all of his cockiness returning in the blink of an eye. "Enjoy your shower, Clarrot. Never fear, your heroic saviour will be around, if you need me." He smirked. "That shouldn't be in too long. Don't worry. I understand. I'll help you get the soap down off the ledge, Titch."

I narrowed my eyes, the _thank you _that had been on the tip of my tongue choken back in a flash. "Shut it, Herondale."

"Dream on, Fray."

With that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the bathroom with a can of bug spray, a battered textbook and a dead spider.

-0-

"He did _what?_" Isabelle choked on her coffee.

To my surprise, Isabelle actually seemed to care about my life, for once. In fact, she was probably more affronted by the fact that Jonathan had dragged in a roommate than I was.

Conveniently enough, I had left out the spider situation. She really didn't need to know about that.

I nodded mournfully. "I know."

Isabelle sympathetically patted my arm. "You're welcome to stay with me, Clary, but…"

I almost smiled at the thought of sharing a flat with Izzy. Sure, she was my best friend - excluding Simon, who does have a tendency to be excluded - but she lived in a freezing room on campus with no heating, dodgy electricity and a demon from hell - also known as the matron - who personally evicted all visitors at ten o'clock every night. I wouldn't last a night here with out being incinerated or something along those lines, and we both knew it. Still, it was a nice offer.

"Thanks, Iz. But I value my life."

Isabelle laughed, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, well. We'd keep you hidden."

I shook my head firmly. "I'll live."

"I hope so," Izzy smirked. "So, this _Jace_. What's he like?"

"A bigheaded, arrogant, cocky, narcissistic, TV stealing di-"

Izzy held up a hand to stop me. "I get the picture. But TV stealing?"

"Oh." Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that minor detail of his personality. This was going to be tricky to explain without making myself look like a total idiot.

Unfortunately, Izzy wasn't quite convinced by my version of events, and spent about ten minutes laughing at me.

"You hit him with a frying pan?" she snorted. "Classic."

I glared at her. "It's not my fault. There was a strange guy in my flat messing with my TV. What was I supposed to do?"

Isabelle smirked, shaking her head. "Oh, Clary. Clary, Clary, _Clary_."

I tossed a pillow at her head. "Shut up."

"A frying pan, though?" Isabelle deflected the pillow easily.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. And? Better than a dirty fork, which was my only other option."

"Not necessarily. You could have stabbed him with it."

"Great." I sighed. "I'll bear that in mind, Iz."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please ignore the chapter title... It's late and I'm tired and I couldn't really think, so I just kinda put down whatever came to mind... Anyway, hope you guys like it. HAPPY (belated) NEW YEAR GUYS! Have a great 2015!<strong>


	5. Six Fingered Nigel

**Chapter Five: Six Fingered Nigel**

"So. What do you say?" Isabelle demanded.

I winced, tilting the phone away from my ear. "I wish I could, Iz, but I've got to get to work in half an hour." I glanced at the clock. "Speaking of, I should probably be going…" I stood up, heading for the lounge so I could grab my bag. "But you and Simon have fun at the...Pandemonium Club, yeah? I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Isabelle sighed. "But I don't want to hang out with Simon's freaky bandmates and their girlfriends. But I said I would go, and I'm not one to break a promise." Her tone lightened. "Especially not when it involves clubbing. At least Aline and some of the girls will be there."

"Isabelle Lightwood," I teased. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Anyway, I've got to go. See you tomorrow, Clary?"

"Yup," I agreed. "See you, Iz."

The line went dead.

As much as I enjoyed tagging around with Isabelle and her long line of boyfriends to various clubs in the city, I wasn't exactly sorry to be missing out on this one. Besides, me not going could give Isabelle and Simon some _quality _time together, right?

I sighed, scooping up my bag and heading for the kitchen to get my shoes and coat. Unfortunately, someone else was already there.

"I am never, ever," I declared loudly, from the kitchen doorway, "_ever _eating or drinking anything from the fridge again."

Jace glanced up at me, pausing in the middle of his sip of orange juice - which he was drinking straight from the carton. "What? I was thirsty."

"But now there's…" I struggled to find words to describe the situation. "...Herondale germs."

Jace gasped dramatically, laying a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Clarissa. Herondale germs? Some would be honoured to drink from the same cup as I have, to -"

I sighed. "I suppose those people would be honoured to share a flat with you, as well?"

"But of course."

I rolled my eyes, before remembering why I had come and grabbing my coat off the back of the chair. The sooner I could get away from Jace and his Herondale germs, the better. "If Jon ever emerges from the cesspit he calls a room, tell him I'm at work."

Jace nodded. "Not that he would notice. You are quite easy to miss, unless one happens to be three foot tall." He shrugged. "Looking at you is like looking at those stars in a planetarium."

For a moment, the words hung between us awkwardly. My heart betrayed me by pounding a little faster at his words, my face flushing slightly. _What was he on about?_

Then he continued. "It makes my neck hurt."

"Looking at you is like looking at a hideous, six foot ogre who can't keep his mouth shut."

"Ouch. That hurt, Titch." He grinned. "I'm six _one._"

I hesitated. "No you're not."

He wilted slightly. "No. No I'm not."

I laughed, and his eyes snapped back up, the sharp gold of his gaze startling. I fell silent, my breath caught in my throat. "Haven't you got somewhere to be, Titch? Wouldn't want you to be late for preschooll."

I cleared my throat, swinging my bag over my shoulder and heading for the door. "I work at a bookshop, actually."

His eyes were laughing when I turned around, my fingers clasped around the doorknob. "Oh, I wasn't implying that you taught there, Clarissa."

I slammed the door roughly, not quite managing to mask the sound of his laughter.

-0-

"Hey, Clary," Luke, my boss, and 'uncle' greeted me as I walked in. "Helen's off sick today, so you'll be working the till, if that's alright."

I nodded, dumping my back on the floor and shrugging my coat off my shoulders. "Yeah, that's fine. Thanks, Luke."

He smiled. "Your mother called this morning. Asked after you."

I groaned inwardly. He and my mum went way back. In fact, I think they had been a little more than friends in their early days of university, but that wasn't something I wanted to think about. Anyway, they still kept in touch, which was a totally cringy affair, in my opinion. Frankly, the fewer reminders I had of my mother's teenage love life, the better.

I also couldn't help but be a little annoyed that my mother had called him first. I mean, I know that my parents seem to have a slightly misunderstanding with modern technology, but I'm fairly sure she knows my phone number.

"That's great," I smiled awkwardly. "And I'm great, too. Uh, I'm sorry she bothered you. She _could have called me instead._"

The conversation was, fortunately interrupted by a customer, who Luke rushed off to help.

It was a pretty uneventful afternoon. I mean, the bookshop is never exactly busy, but we have a few regulars who come every week or so, and there's always a steady stream of customers. But sitting on your backside for several hours with a ten minute coffee break in between can really take a toll on your mental health. At the end of my shift, I emerged with three things; my salary, a splitting headache and a anewfound respect for Helen Blackthorn, a friend of mine, who usually worked at the till.

"Bye, Luke!" I called out to the darkened shop, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I stood in the open doorway, a wintry breeze blowing around me. Typical weather for early October, I know…

After a moment, a muffled reply came from the other side of the shop. "See you, Clary. Thanks."

I stepped outside, zipping my coat up and contemplating the walk home. It usually took me about twenty minutes to walk it, which wasn't exactly ideal, but I didn't have any other options. Today, however, it was already practically dark, the sun a tiny splotch on the other end of the skyline.

Oh well. There was nothing else for it.

The walk was long and dismal, but I was fairly confident I was going the right way. Although it was pretty hard to tell when you were trudging through darkened alleys with a phone as your only lightsource.

After about ten minutes of walking, I came across a long, almost pitch black strip of road, a small side street that ran between a block of houses. I hesitated on the turning. Somehow, this bit didn't seem so familiar anymore.

But there was that coffee shop across the road that Simon, Isabelle and I often met at. And there was the Sainsburys that Jonathan sometimes shopped at when he decided that we were on the brink of starvation and needed more food.

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and stepped into the darkness.

I walked quickly, too proud to run but too scared to stroll.

_It's okay. I'm going to be fine. It will all be okay. _I kept talking to myself, which did calm me down a little. _It's a star. A pretty star. And look, light. Almost at the end. Almost there. _

That's when I heard something else, some other creature speaking from out of the darkness. For a second, I thought the calming voice in my head had gone wrong, turned into Darth Vader somehow.

And then I saw the little man in front of me as he repeated his words in the same, gravelly voice.

"Oi, little girl. What's a pretty thing like you doing out on a night like this."

My heart stopped. I was paralyzed, too frozen in fear to react. I think I may have squeaked. That sound - like a mouse being stepped on - was probably me. But my brain was far too terrified to function properly.

The dwarf-like man extended a hand to me, and, through my shock, I registered something very strange about the fingers of his left hand. There were six of them. Four little fingers and two little thumbs.

I squeaked again, and the dwarf-man laughed.

"Don't worry, sweet pea. Nigel will help you. Just come with Nigel. Nigel will show you the way."

His fingers touched my wrist and I sprang into action, dodging away from him and sprinting across the alley. I had never moved so fast in my entire life as I did then. I tore down the road, the wind ripping at my hair and clothes and freezing my cheeks, but I didn't stop. Actually, I didn't stop, didn't even slow down, until I realised, with a sudden horror, that I had no idea where I was going.

I halted abruptly, glancing around nervously. Good. Six Fingered Nigel wasn't chasing me anymore. As short as my legs might be, his were definitely shorter. It was understandable that he had given up.

But as I caught sight of the dingy cafe I was standing in front of - one that I was sure I had never seen before in my life - I realised that my situation was worse than I could have possibly imagined.

I was lost. Completely and utterly lost in the middle of a huge city. And it was dark. And cold. And I was alone.

I shivered, pulling my coat around me, still wobbly from the adrenaline rush. My eyes stung slightly, but I forced the panic back. No. I wasn't going to cry in front of all these people.

I didn't want another scary dwarf-man 'taking pity' on me.

I fumbled for my phone, my frozen fingers slipping awkwardly on the sip of my coat pocket. Finally, I managed to wriggle it out.

I called Simon first, out of instinct and habit, praying silently that he would answer the phone. But his phone went straight to voicemail, the stupid, chirpy message that I'd helped him record over a year ago.

He was probably making pathetic attempts to flirt with Isabelle in some club somewhere.

Cursing, I dialed Isabelle's number.

_Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…_

"Hello?"

I sighed in relief. "Isabelle? Thank God…" I gasped, my voice still shaky.

"Clary?" I could hear music in the background, and Isabelle was clearly shouting. Yeah, definitely in some club somewhere. Probably the Pandemonium, like she'd been discussing earlier - but I was too panicked to think about that.

"Listen, Iz, I'm lost. I was attacked by a dwarf-man called Nigel, and so I ran away from him and now I'm lost and I don't know what to do." My voice rose hysterically at the end of the sentence.

There was a long pause, and I thought Isabelle might be thinking. Then she giggled, a slightly drunken giggle that made my heart sink to my stomach. "Listen, Clary, I can't hear you, I'm sorry. I'm still at the Pandemonium - it's brilliant. I'll call you tomorrow."

"No!" I gasped. "Izzy!"

But the line was already dead.

I slumped over slightly, feeling tears well up behind my closed eyelids. I was alone. Alone. Alone…

Who could I call? I would have called Luke, but I only had the shop's number, and he would have already shut down by now. Besides, I didn't want my parents to find out - it had been enough of an effort to convince my father that I was grown up enough to go to university, which had been a short, but painful argument. I didn't know anyone else in my year particularly well - and I didn't have their phone numbers anyway.

There was nothing else for it. With a ragged, shaky sigh, I pressed my brother's contact.

_Ring ring. Ring ring._

Surprise surprise. No answer. He was probably sleeping like the useless, lazy…

I closed my eyes, letting a single tear drip down my cheek and into the neck of my hoodie, soaking into the black fabric. This was it. I was going to catch hypothermia and die, or get murdered by horrible dwarf-men with six fingers.

As I stood on the pavement, the picture of despair, I felt a small buzz against my side. That was weird. After a brief pause, it happened again. And then again. And suddenly I stood bold upright.

My phone.

And it was Jon calling.

I couldn't answer it quick enough.

"Jon!" I gasped as soon as my fingers skimmed the green icon. "Jon, you have to help me, please I've been attacked by a dwarf-man called Six Fingered Nigel and now I'm lost and alone and freezing cold and…" My voice weakened to a slightly pathetic stage. "Please can you come get me?" I whimpered.

"Uh, Clary?"

_Oh crap. _

I knew that voice. And it definitely wasn't Jonathan's.

Jace Herondale. Ruining lives since 1234.

"No, I'm fine," I said, quickly. "Don't worry about it. Just ignore- Wait. Why do you have Jon's phone? Where's Jon? I need him. Now."

There was a pause. "He left," Jace said, casually. "With Kaelie. And he left his phone in his jacket pocket, so it's here." Jace paused again. "Six Fingered Nigel?"

"Nothing," I said, slightly hysterically. "It's a...um, prank."

"A prank." Jace didn't sound particularly impressed. "A-are you crying?"

There was an awkward silence as I wiped determinedly at my cheeks. "No. No, not at all."

"Titch, that's enough. I don't know what you're playing at. But… If you're just messing then I'll hang up…"

"No!" I cried. "No, please. Listen, I don't know where I am, and I just want to...get home? Do you...can you…" I swallowed. "Can you find Jon?"

Jace clicked his tongue. "I don't know if you understand the concept of dating. But it usually involves two people who like each other spending a lot of time together..._alone_. Jonathan and Kaelie are _dating _Clarissa. It may surprise you to know that I am not dating either of them - I know, they have poor taste. But no, I am not currently the one on a date with your brother, so no. I do not know where he is and cannot find him."

"Ah. Okay," I sighed. "I'll just…"

"Clary." Jace's tone was firm. "Where are you."

I hesitated, before deciding to answer. Anything was better than this, whatever Jace was planning. "In front of this cafe called, uh.." I glanced at the sign. "Taki's."

"Nice little place," Jace noted. "Stay there, don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He hung up before I had time to respond.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you like that one :) It was fun to write. About Jace's height... I actually found out that he's 5'11", so yeah. That part is true. I thought he was taller though! Anyway, I hope I'm not moving the Clace-ness too fast... I'll try to do better after this chapter. They still hate each other. Don't worry. Or do, I don't know... <strong>


	6. Death Traps and Dresses

**Chapter Six: Death Traps and Dresses**

"A m-motorcycle?" I demanded, through chattering teeth. "You h-have a motorcycle?"

Jace dismounted, swinging his long legs over the side and patting the bike affectionately. With his other hand, he lifted the helmet off his let, letting his blonde curls spill over, framing his face.

"Yes," he grinned. "I got it from a friend of mine - Raphael Santiago."

"J-Jace, I d-don't think -"

"Alright, I stole it. But he has lots, and that's not really the point."

I gaped at him silently. "Stole it?"

Jace glanced at me, his golden eyes narrowing into slits. "Yes. As I said, he won't miss it. Now, do you have a problem, or should I get you back home?"

I hesitated, not pointing out the fact that my mother would take great pleasure in murdering me if I ever got on a motorbike - especially with a relatively strange boy. But it wasn't like I had any other option. "Nope. No problem."

Jace smiled, the dim streetlamp lighting up his face in an almost skeletal way as he climbed up onto his bike again. I hesitated again, and he paused, turning to glare at me. "Coming, Fray?"

I scrambled forward, climbing up onto the seat and swinging one leg over the cold, smooth leather.

At this point, I was so close to Jace Herondale that I could practically feel the tips of his wavy blonde hair in my eyes - probably would have, if he hadn't been nearly a foot taller than me. There was so little distance between us that I could sense the warmth radiating off his body on my skin, see the slender muscles in his back shift as he leant forward to grip the handlebars.

"You're going to want to hang on, Titch," he called over his shoulder as he started up the engine with a loud roar.

"Uh huh." I grabbed the seat tightly with both hands. If Jace thought I was going to hang on to him, he was-

_Wham. _

With no warning whatsoever, the bike jerked into action and I was thrown off balance, ramming hard into Jace's back. I felt myself slipping slowly, sliding farther and farther down the leather seat.

"Ahhh," I gasped.

"I told you to hang on," Jace yelled back, over the sound of the wind roaring past my ears. "For god's sake, Fray…"

I needed no encouragement. If I had to choose between my life, or my pride, it was my life all the way. I threw my arms around Jace's waist, hauling myself back into an upright position.

After a couple of seconds, I realised how tightly I had been holding on, how my cheek was now smushed unflatteringly against Jace Herondale's back. I was still tense, my body arched as far away from his as possible, but there wasn't really much space to move around on this death contraption.

The drive was long and cold. Colder than the ninth circle of hell, but I was too busy worrying about losing my grip and becoming a grease spot on the road on either side of us to think about my frozen fingers.

Against my will, I found myself relaxing slightly, my hands encircling Jace's waist and resting somewhere just above his waistline. It didn't really want to think about that. Now I was holding him gently, no longer squeezing the life out of his lungs. And, weirdly enough, I didn't feel on the verge of falling off.

After a while, I closed my eyes, my cheek resting on the back of Jace's hoodie. It was easier this way. The buildings and trees whipping past us made me feel more than a little bit ill. As I settled my head on Jace's sinewy back, I felt his breath hitch, his body tense. I was too tired to lift my head, and, after a moment, Jace relaxed.

What felt like years later, I felt the bike slowing down, the engine quieting to a gentle whir before growing completely silent. For a moment, neither of us moved, just lingered together in the still silence of the night.

Then I felt Jace straighten, my cheek slipping off his shoulder blade. I jerked backwards as Jace stood, stretching and yawning.

"Here you go, Titch. Home sweet home."

I headed for the stairs, before noticing that he wasn't following.

"I have to park her," he explained, patting his motorbike affectionately. "You go on up. If your useless brother is home, give him hell from me, okay? I'm not a babysitter."

"And I'm _not _a baby," I reminded him, before hesitating slightly. "Thanks, Jace. That was...uh...nice of you. To come and...pick me up."

Jace smiled. "What can I say? I'm a nice person."

I snorted. "See you, Herondale."

"In a minute, Clary-midget." He frowned. "No, doesn't quite rhyme, does it?"

I rolled my eyes, closing the door and heading for the stairs.

When I arrived at our flat, I stormed dramatically into the lounge in search of Jon.

I caught a glimpse of his white-blonde hair over the kitchen counter and headed towards it, angrily. "Hey, idiot. I almost _died _today. Died. You -"

I froze, stepping into the lounge and realising, for the the first time, that my brother was not alone.

He was perched on one end of the sofa, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but this time there was someone else with him, sprawled across his lap. Someone with long, blonde hair and her face pressed against my brother's.

They sprang apart as soon as I walked in, but not before I could gag loudly, feeling even sicker than I had on the motorbike.

"Jon, what the hell…?" I moaned, hands still clasped over my mouth. "Why must you do these terrible things here? Don't you have a room? Jon…" I glared at him pleadingly. "Argh."

I tried not to empty the contents of my stomach onto the carpet, or Jon's girlfriend's platform shoes. Which, I must admit, was quite tempting.

"I think I'd better go," the girl said, straightening out the crooked neckline of her blouse and smoothing out her long hair. She was slender and pretty, with blonde hair and big blue eyes and the general appearance of a barbie doll. I hated her already.

Jonathan glanced reluctantly at her. "I'll call you later, Kae."

She grinned, flashing perfect, white teeth. "You'd better." Then she turned to face me, and her smile transformed into a sneer. "See you, Clarissa."

Then she was gone, with a swish of her platinum blonde hair.

"Clary?" Jon asked nervously, approaching me. I didn't move, and he reached out to grab my wrist, teasing my hand away from my mouth. "That was Kaelie. My girlfriend? Kaelie?"

After a moment, I nodded slowly, trying to erase the image of them...canoodling on the sofa out of my mind. Oh, god. I was going to be mentally scarred for life. "I...could have died?" I repeated, avoiding the topic with incredible subtlety.

"What?" Jon stared at me for a moment, before rolling his eyes. "It wasn't that bad, Clary. We were just…"

"No." I shushed him. I really didn't need to know about what they had been doing. I didn't really want to think about it right now. "No, when I was coming back from work."

For the first time, Jon looked vaguely concerned. "What? What happened?"

He seemed pretty relieved about to topic change, to be honest.

"I was attacked by a tiny man called Six Fingered Nigel and I ran away and then I got lost and I tried to call you and you didn't pick up and so Jace had to come get me and it was cold and dark…" The words rushed out. By the end of it, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I decided to do both, the panic of the entire situation catching up with me. I let out a cross between a laugh and a sob as Jonathan stared at me.

"You were attacked by a man called Nigel." Jonathan's voice was surprisingly angry, and I glanced up at his green eyes, which glinted dangerously. "Where did you see him?"

I grabbed Jonathan's sleeve, to stop him from getting up. "It doesn't matter. He didn't do anything to me. I was just scared."

"Oh Clary…" After a minute, Jon pulled me into a hug, and I buried my face in his chest. "No more late shifts, okay?"

I nodded, laughing nervously. Suddenly, Jon's arms stiffened around mine, and he pushed me away, holding me out at arms length. His voice was cautious and controlled when he spoke. "How did you say you got home?"

"Jace came and got me, because you left your phone here, and…"

"How?"

I paused. "What?"

"How did he…" Jonathan paused. "Oh no. No, no, no. He did not take you on his death trap. No. He is dead. So dead."

"His motorbike?" I asked, puzzled.

Jon stood up. "_So _dead."

"Hey!" I smacked Jon across the arm, hard enough for him to pause and glare down at me. I folded my arms. "I'm the only one who'll be doing any killing tonight. After all, Jace came. You didn't." I poked him lightly in the chest. "What would mum and dad say, you irresponsible little boy?"

Jon scowled. "Mum would murder us both - and Jace - if she knew that you had been on a motorcycle."

I snorted. "Yeah, but she'd kill you _twice _for not taking care of me."

Jon sighed loudly, flopping back across the sofa. "Fine. Fine."

"Sorry?"

Jonathan sighed again. "Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, I offer you my sincerest apologies and -"

"Just don't…do that to me again."

"Which part of it? The forgetting my phone and leaving you stranded thing, or the forcing you to ride home with Jace Herondale thing?"

I crossed my arms. "Both."

-0-

"You should have come," Isabelle complained, grabbing my wrist and dragging me over to browse through yet another row of dresses. "It was fun."

We were in the largest shopping centre within six miles of the university. We had been into every clothes shop and shoe shop in the area, had spent nearly three hours shopping, and still Isabelle Lightwood had only bought a donut.

Yes. After dragging our friend Maia and I all over the place for hours on end, she had only bought one tiny little donut. It didn't even have any cream in it. It was literally a small bagel that had been dropped into a vat of sugar.

I was pretty much done watching Isabelle try on dress after dress, looking totally amazing in all of them, and then manage to find some complaint about every single one. It was tiring.

"Yeah, it sounded great," I said, vaguely, not paying her much attention. "Are you almost done yet?"

Isabelle frowned at me. "Patience, grasshopper. It takes time to find the perfect outfit for you." She yanked a sapphire coloured dress - that was honestly more of a T-shirt, off the hanger, holding it up against her body. "What do you think?"

I rolled my eyes, smirking at Maia, who was shaking her head.

"It's nice," I said, flatly. "It doesn't look that different from the one you tried on about an hour ago in that big shop with the awful music."

Isabelle paused. "Oh, that one. Yes, but this one's got a nicer cut…" She inspected herself critically in the mirror. "Nah. I think I'll go for that black one."

"Yeah!" I replied, enthusiastically, not just because that might bring our endless torture to a close. I actually remembered the dress she was talking about, for once. It had been simple, for Isabelle, and not so plain that she thought it old fashioned, but not overly revealing either. It was one of the only dresses I had seen today that I didn't actually dislike. Although I may or may not have gone off dresses permanently. Trust me, shopping with Isabelle Lightwood is not an easy feat.

Maia nodded so energetically that her her curly hair bobbed around her face. "Yeah, that was a nice one."

Isabelle looked pleased. "I thought so."

I tried not to be too annoyed that we could have ended this whole thing about an hour and a half ago, instead of suffering for much longer.

"What about you two?" Isabelle pouted, slipping her purse back in her back and heading for the door. "There's Seelie's party coming up in a couple of weeks - it's going to be fantastic…" Isabelle smiled in memory of Seelie Queen's party last year, which hadn't seemed all that brilliant to me. I hadn't gone myself, but Isabelle had moped around on my sofa for a week afterwards with a splitting headache. Still, this year, she was determined. "You _have _to come."

"Eh," I shrugged. "I'll see."

Isabelle smirked. "You are coming, Clarissa."

I laughed. "I'll think about it, Lightwood. Don't get your hopes up."

"What about your hot flatmate?" Isabelle asked, with a sneaky grin. "Is he going?"

I whirled around to face her. "He's not -"

"He is pretty hot," Isabelle informed me, decidedly.

I groaned. "But he's the biggest assho-"

"Okay, okay. I was merely pointing out that he is very appealing to the eyes. I never said anything about his personality. Although..." She smirked. "From what I hear, he is your heroic saviour, is he not?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, sounding a lot more nervous than I had meant to.

"Were you not telling me just yesterday that he saved you from a dwarf with six fingers?"

I glared at her. "I saved myself. He just...brought me home. Because he has a motorbike, and Jon wasn't in..."

"He has a motorbike...?" Isabelle's eyes were slightly unfocused by now.

"That's not the point," I snapped.

"Hey," Maia broke in, looking exhausted at the prospect of going into another shop. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. How about you go and buy that dress and then meet Clary and I in Java Jones?"

Isabelle looked a little put out, but, after I agreed with Maia, she nodded.

"See you, Iz," I called over my shoulder as we walked in opposite directions.

Maia sighed in relief, folding her arms across her chest. "Thirty two."

"What?" I asked, thinking she'd lost her mind slightly. It wasn't that unusual. A shopping trip with Isabelle did tend to drive people crazy.

"Thirty two shops. We've been in thirty two _different _shops."

I laughed. "You were counting?"

"It wasn't like I had anything better to do. I love Izzy and all, but I swear, if I ever have to go shopping with her again, I swear…"

"I know," I smirked. "But you get used to it."

Maia snorted. "I'd rather not."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So. Hi. Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing, and I'm glad you guys (seem to) like it :D Your reviews have meant a lot to me, and I will be eternally grateful to you guys for making my day, and making me smile. <strong>

**Also, for those of you wondering, yes, the thing with Sebastian will come up again, don't worry. I have plans for that (mwahahahaha). But not yet.**

**Thanks again!**

**-hamsiidris**


	7. Return of the Television Thief

**Hi!**

**Thanks again for reading/reviewing, guys! Just thought I'd clear a couple things up before this chapter, because people have asked in reviews, so...**

**On the nickname 'Titch...' Well, I don't really know. It just means like, tiny. Titchy. Yeah. Who knows, maybe it's just a British thing...**

**Also, for those of you wondering about Six Fingered Nigel, read the Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare. You won't regret it ;) (WILLIAM HERONDALE IS MINE)**

**-hamsiidris**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven: Return of the Television Thief<strong>

Who doesn't love Saturdays? A whole day of just lying on the sofa in front of the TV, watching Netflix for hours on end. Maybe moving every couple of hours or so, to grab some more food. Not having to worry about homework - I'm more of a last minute person when it comes to things like that. Sounds great, right?

_Wrong. _

Because today there was something - someone - on _my _sofa, someone eating _my _coco pops and watching _my _TV. Someone tall. And blonde. And ridiculously attractive.

Wait, what?

"Hey, Titch."

Wow. Funny how that attraction just goes down the toilet as soon as he opens his big mouth.

I ignored his greeting, folding my arms and glaring at him. "What are you doing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Watching TV."

"But…" I made an effort not to whimper. "But that's my sofa," I blurted out.

_Nice going, Clary. _

Jace smirked. "Your sofa?"

I frowned, struggling to come up with a valid argument. No way was I going to give up my Saturday morning for this. "Yes. My flat. My sofa,"

Jace rolled his eyes. "I believe we've already established that I live here now."

"But I lived here first."

"Clarissa." Jace closed his eyes. "Are we really going to do this now?"

"Yes."

"Fine." He stood up, grabbed the remote and flung himself into the smaller two seater on his left. "You can have your precious little sofa."

I frowned. Wow. He really wasn't getting it. I opened my mouth to speak, but he shushed me.

"No, you can't have the TV."

"What?"

Jace finally tore his gaze away from the screen, fixing his golden eyes on me. "Forget it, Fray."

I sighed. "But I always watch TV on a Saturday."

Jace smirked. "Tough."

"I -"

Jace glared at me. "What part of 'watching TV' do you not understand, Titch? I'm trying to watch this, and you keep blabbing at me."

I briefly considered tackling him for the remote, but he was about a foot taller than me, and I didn't like my chances. This time, he was really stealing the TV. Unfortunately, I didn't have a frying pan handy. "You'll pay for this, Herondale."

He smiled innocently at me. "But you owe me."

The words sent a shiver down my spine. "What did you say?"

Jace's smile widened. "You owe me. If not for me, you would be an ice sculpture standing outside Taki's right now."

"Jon would have…"

"Eventually." Jace smirked.

I paused for a moment. What could I do? He was right - as much as I hated him, I did owe him somewhat. I threw my hands up in frustration. "Fine. Fine. Whatever."

Ugh. A Saturday ruined. As I turned to leave the room, I couldn't resist kicking one of the pillows that he had dumped on the floor in the general direction of his face.

Tragically, it missed, landing on the sofa next to him.

Not taking his eyes away from the TV, Jace tossed it back. His aim - or maybe concentration - wasn't that great either, because the pillow sailed over my head towards the open door.

And hit Jonathan smack in the face.

I paused, not sure whether to laugh or apologise on Jace's behalf, but he didn't seem to have noticed. Instead, his face was flushed and his pale green eyes open wide.

"Jon?" I asked, slightly concerned as he froze in the doorway, staring at Jace with an expression of total horror.

Even Jace tore his eyes away from the TV long enough to raise a delicate, golden eyebrow. "You don't look so good, J-"

"Mum. Dad. Coming," Jonathan gasped, seemingly unable to form complete sentences. But it was enough.

A burst of panic flared through my body. "Mum and Dad? Coming here? When?"

My parents coming? Oh god. That was not going to go well. For one, the flat was a total dump. It didn't help that we now had two idiot boys sharing the space, and Jace had already managed to make a huge mess, despite the fact that he'd only been here for a couple of days.

Speaking of Jace…

_Oh crap. _

If my parents came over and found another boy living in our flat, they'd make the First World War look like a little disagreement, compared to what was going to happen here. If they found out about Jace, we were all dead seven times over.

"Jon!" I grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look down into my eyes. "When? When are they coming?"

He glanced at the clock, taking a deep breath. "Four hours."

"What?" My eyes bugged out. It was time to say goodbye to my tragic little life. In four hours, all hell was going to break loose, and there was no way I would survive the explosion.

Jonathan ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I don't know! Mum wasn't very clear about the whole thing, but I think Dad had some meeting not too far from here, and Mum tagged along so they could come 'drop by' later. Something like that. Clary…"

"...We're dead," I confirmed, finishing his sentence. "So utterly, completely dead. Beyond dead."

"Hey, hey, hey." Jace was sitting up now, staring at the two of us with confusion plastered across his face. "I've met your parents - they're not that bad…"

We both stared at him for a couple of seconds, until something appeared to click in his mind. I could practically hear his brain working agonizingly slowly. Then something sparked in his gold eyes and he grinned, sheepishly. "Oh. I'm guessing...uh, no house guests?"

I gaped at him. He didn't seem to understand. "Are you sure you've met my parents? My mother made Jonathan and I sign a flipping contract about the rules of sharing a flat. Wake up, Herondale. Rule number one. None of Jonathan's 'male friends' in the house after eleven o'clock." I glared at Jonathan. "Not that those rules aren't totally scrapped the second my parents are out of earshot. Jace…" I sat down heavily on the sofa. "We're screwed."

Jace frowned. "But...couldn't I just leave? I can camp out at Alec's or Jordan's for a couple hours, until your parents have gone."

Jonathan shook his head. "My father is like a bloodhound, man. He can _smell _guilt, literally."

I nodded. "He'll find out. All it takes is one set of boxers that he doesn't remember buying for Jon and -"

"Hey!" Jon interjected furiously. "I can by my own f-"

I waved him off. "It doesn't matter. You get the picture. They are going to find out, Jace, and then we'll all be dead."

For a couple of minutes, no one spoke. We just sat around in a silent, brooding circle, thinking. I don't know about the boys, but personally, I was contemplating death. I know, ever the optimist.

"I have my tombstone picked out," I announced, flatly.

"So do I," Jace mused, thoughtfully. "Hmm...'He was Heterosexual and had Low Expectations…'"

This was so totally out of the blue that I couldn't help but let out a tiny snort of laughter. "What?"

Jace shrugged. "I was once told that practically summed up my existence."

The silence fell once more, but Jace was clearly getting a little bit impatient. After about two minutes of bouncing his left knee up and down energetically, he finally spoke again. "Why are you guys just...sitting there."

"I'm awaiting death," I told him, glumly.

Jonathan grunted in agreement.

Jace frowned. "Why?" I looked up to face him, and, for a second, our eyes met. His irises were blazing, like starlight, boring into mine with uncomfortable precision. They were mesmerizingly beautiful, like nothing I had ever seen before. They held me, locked in place, until I finally tore my gaze away from his eyes, focusing on the wall behind him.

_That's a nice wall, _I mentally noted, trying not to think of Jace's gorgeous, golden eyes. _Nice wall...Nice wall...Nice eyes. Wait! No. No, no, no._

I cursed myself silently, as Jace continued. "Come on, Titch. You hate me? Why don't you just tell your parents what happened? You could get out of this couldn't you? You didn't even have a say. Why the sudden interest in our safety." He paused. "As touching as your concern may be."

I sighed. "You don't understand. It doesn't matter that I wasn't part of this. It doesn't matter that I didn't have a choice. We are all dead if they find out." I paused. "Besides. Jon's my brother. He may be an idiot, but…" I narrowed my eyes. "I'm doing this for him, Herondale."

I didn't add that, as much as I might hate Jace Herondale, even he didn't deserve what he was going to get from my parents.

Jon smirked. "Why thank you, Clarissa."

I glared at him.

"But…" Jace paused. "Why don't we...do something?"

I stared at him. "Like what, genius? Write our obituaries? Preparing our wills?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "No. Like getting me and my stuff out of the house before one o'clock and pretending, for the sake of your parents, that I don't exist."

I hesitated. I suppose that should have been obvious from the time, but I was so busy worrying about my parents that actually trying to _do _something about the situation had totally slipped my mind. It could work, but…

I glanced at the clock. "We don't have time. They're coming in… Three hours and forty minutes. We've got to clean the flat and make sure we have something edible to give them…" I paused. "And where are you going to go, anyway? You're not exactly going to be able to take your bags on that bike of yours."

Jace frowned, thinking it through, but, weirdly enough, it was Jonathan who provided the answer.

"What about Magnus? He lives upstairs, doesn't he?"

"Magnus?" Jace's perked up slightly. "Like Alec's boyfriend Magnus? Sparkly suit Magnus? The one with the evil cat?"

"Evil cat?" I shook my head. "Never mind about that. But… Will he agree to help?"

Jace grinned. "Please. Who could resist this?" He winked, before sobering up slightly. "But yeah. He'll do it. Alec's and I go way back. A couple of phone calls will settle the whole thing."

I shrugged. "If you say so. That still doesn't explain how we're going to fix this mess in three and a half hours."

Jonathan smiled grimly. "Well, little sister, we'd better get working."


	8. The Visit from Hell

**Chapter Eight: The Visit from Hell**

"No, no, no," I yelled, racing after Jace. "No, don't do that."

He promptly dropped the mug he was holding, causing it to shatter into a million little pieces. After a shocked pause, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'll, uh, get a broom."

I sighed, leaning tiredly against the counter. Three hours of flitting between Jace and Jonathan, trying to make sure neither of them destroyed anything was really taking its toll on my health. I was tired, sore and bleeding from a wound on my finger caused by a shard of broken piece of glass that I found under Jonathan's bed. I don't know where that came from, and don't particularly want to, either.

So far, the boys had broken two - now three - things, including a glass paperweight that Mum had given Jon on his tenth birthday. It had been a pretty, green ornament twisted into a sort of twisted pattern. Mum had called it a rune or something, and said she bought it because it reminded her of his eyes. It had sat on Jon's desk for the past ten years and he had always seemed embarrassed by it, but he had been moping around for the past hour, so I figured that it probably meant more to him than he let on.

I watched Jace fetch a practically unused broom that my mother had bought when we first moved in. He swept the pieces up quietly, scooping them into the bin. The lean muscles of his shoulder were prominent through his light T-shirt as he scrubbed the floor viciously with the broom, and I couldn't help but admire the view for a few moments before he stood, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

I offered him a small, tired smile. "Can you...not break anything for a few minutes? I have to go check on Jon."

Jace shrugged. "I'll do my best. It's not my fault fragile things don't like me."

I smiled, rolling my eyes, as I dumped the cloth I had been using to swab the counter in the sink and stepping over Jace's broom towards the door.

"Hey, Titch." Jace spoke as I passed him. I turned to glance at him, subsequently tripping over the broom handle and stumbling towards the counter. Just before I smashed my face on the hard surface, I caught myself, hands planted on either side of something black and uncomfortably close to my face.

Jace cleared his throat and I glanced upwards, realising that I had somehow managed to sandwich him between me and the counter, my hands on the counter on either side of him. Our faces were close enough to touch, had I been a little taller.

For the first time, I was truly thankful for my height. Or lack of it.

The seconds ticked by as we stared at each other. I could feel his breath on the top of my head, see the gleaming gold irises that had softened to a darker, warmer shade. My breath hitched slightly in my throat, as I tried to clear my head.

From this angle - and, more importantly, this distance - I could see every tiny blemish of his seemingly perfect face. The tiny white scar on his sharp lawline, the little dark fleck over his left pupil. But even from here, he was easily the most beautiful human being I had ever seen in my life. People like this belonged in sketchbooks and stories. It wasn't fair for a real person to look like that, when I couldn't even get the pimple on my chin to disappear.

I took a deep breath, lowering my gaze.

"Sorry," I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I struggled to steady myself, finding my feet again. "What were you, uh, saying?"

I let go of the counter and backed up slightly, so we stood a few feet apart. A pretty safe distance.

My face was probably as red as my hair by now, and even Jace looked slightly pink as his eyes refocused.

"Oh, uh…" Jace seemed to struggle for words, for once in his life. "I was just -"

Suddenly, completely out of the blue, a sound rang through the air, cutting Jace off and sending white hot bursts of terror through my veins. A sound, crisp and clear and totally horrifying.

_Ding dong. _

The doorbell. For a second, Jace and I stood frozen, my fear mirrored on his face.

"But they weren't supposed to -" Jace began.

"Well, they're early," I said, grimly. "Broom away quickly, get Jon and make sure everything is sorted," I ordered, pushing past him. "I'll delay them for as long as possible."

Jace nodded, grabbing the broom and scrambling for the cupboard, before pausing and turning back to face me. "What about me?"

I hadn't thought about that. "Oh, you're just leaving. You and Jon have been working on a, um, project together."

Jace nodded. "Got it, Titch."

I dried my hands hurriedly on the front of my shirt, skidding along the newly polished floor as I raced for the door. As I neared it, the doorbell rang again, quick and impatient, this time.

"Coming," I called, trying to sound casual as I fumbled for the latch. "Just a sec…"

Finally, I managed to unlock the door, and it was flung open with an impatient shove. I squeaked in surprise, dodging the door as it swung towards me and leapt directly onto my father's foot.

Valentine Morgenstern - my father, no less - let out a grunt that I can only describe as being an _Omph _as he doubled over, clutching his toes. I retreated speedily into the flat.

"Clary?" My mother sounded shocked, to say the least.

What a brilliant start. Things were going fabulously already.

"Mum!" I greeted, enthusiastically, sidestepping my father, who was still massaging his toes, and wrapping my arms around her.

She hugged me tightly, before holding me out at arms length for a full inspection. "Oh, Clary, darling, how's university? Has that brother of yours been behaving himself? How are your lessons going? Have you been well?"

My father straightened, frowning at me. "Rather too well, I think. You have put on wieght, Clarissa. My poor toes..."

I laughed, deciding that he probably hadn't meant it as an insult. My father was just...blunt, I suppose you could call it. And who could blame him? I had just jumped on his foot.

"Daddy!" I pulled him into a hug as well, burying my face in his shirt, which smelled of lemons and washing up liquid and _home_. It smelled amazing.

"Clarissa?" he asked, slightly nervously, when I refused to let go after several seconds. "What are you…?"

"Smelling," I answered cheerfully. "You smell like...home."

I felt his hand on my head, patting gently, as he spoke to my mother. "See? I told you she was too young for universi-"

"No." I straightened quickly, pulling away and folding my arms. "No, that's not what I meant. I am perfectly -"

My mother sighed, cutting us both of quickly. "Really, Val. We are not doing this now. _Again_. Now, Clary, where's your brother?"

"Here." A voice came from the doorway, and my parents turned to see Jonathan standing in the doorway, wearing a huge, only slightly forced, smile. Jace stood behind him, awkwardly hovering at his shoulder.

"Jonathan!" My mother beamed, gesturing for him to give her a hug. He obliged, flushing slightly as he did so.

My father's attention, however, was elsewhere, fixed on the boy standing in the doorway, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his black T-shirt. I watched him stare at Jace for a few moments, feeling a lump of terror building in my throat. Was he going to skip the introduction, and kill Jace right now?

"Dad," I said, nervously. "This is, uh -"

Before I could finish, my father interrupted me, his booming voice ringing through the narrow corridor. "Herondale!"

-0-

"Thanks, Mrs. Morgenstern," Jace said, accepting the cup of tea and squirming awkwardly in his seat. "But I really think I should go…"

"Nonsense!" My father boomed, briskly. "Anything for Stephen's son. Thank you, dear," he added, taking a biscuit from the plate my mother had just placed on the table. "How is your father, Jonathan?"

_Jonathan?_ I blanched momentarily, before remembering the interesting information that my father had revealed when he and Jace got talking. Jace's full name was Jonathan, too. I was sharing a flat with _two _Jonathans? How much worse could my life get?

"My father?" Jace choked on his biscuit, before breaking into a coughing fit so violent, Jonathan had to thump him on the back. When he recovered, he lifted his blonde head to face my father, eyes watering slightly. "Oh… Um. He's fine. Just fine. He's with my mother and her parents in France for a few months."

My father's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "In France, you say?"

Jace nodded. "Uh huh. In Paris."

My father inclined his head slightly, with a smile. "When are he and Celine coming back? We must meet with them again - it has been far too long."

Jace looked distinctly uncomfortable. "They'll be back in January or February. It depends on my Grandmother, really…"

"Imogen is unwell?" My father sounded concerned, and I shot him a weird look. How close were he and the Herondales? This was just getting awkward, not only for Jace.

"Oh, she… Yeah, she's alright. She had an operation a few weeks ago, though, so Mum and Dad are staying around to...help out and stuff."

"Ah. And where do you live, my boy? Nearby? How nice for Jonathan to have an old friend so close."

_Oh dear god. _

At this, Jace looked absolutely petrified. His gaze met mine for a second, and I held my breath, afraid that he was going to give himself away with the long hesitation. _Come on Jace. _

Fortunately, he found his voice. "Yeah, it's not too far," he said, shakily.

My father smiled "How lovely. Nice place, is it?"

Okay, this was going a little bit too far. There was no way we were going to get through this. Jonathan and I shared a quick, panicked glance, but there was harsh resolute in his eyes. He wasn't going to lose now. Jace cleared his throat and I leapt for an opportunity to change the subject. Apparently, so did Jonathan.

"More tea, Mum? Dad? I've made some, uh, scones…" I offered the plate, hoping that they didn't taste like llama sneeze. I knew Mum was partial to scones, but I'd never really made them before, and they were really just there to appease her.

Jonathan, however, took a much less subtle approach. "Mum, Dad… I've decided that I'm going to drop Medicine. I'm going to drop Maths. I have no desire whatsoever to be an accountant or an engineer or any of the other stupid things that you think I should be."

I stared at him for several moments, with my mouth wide open. Mum and Dad seemed just as shocked - I figured they hadn't fully registered what he'd said.

I probably should have run and hide, while I had the chance.

Dad was just going to love this, especially after years of pushing Jonathan to continue with his stupid maths, even when Jon clearly wanted to quit. And, while I was shocked and slightly worried for my brother's safety at that point, I was glad he's finally broken through, finally had his own say in his life.

I stopped being glad a few seconds later, when the room erupted into pandemonium.

About half an hour later, when my father had finally calmed down enough to accept another cup of tea and a large scone, he turned to Jace again, looking grumpy as ever. "Are you the influence behind my son's poor judgement? Tell me, boy, what are you studying?"

"Physcology," Jace said, without missing a beat. "No, I didn't even know Jonathan was...thinking of changing his mind."

My father had the grace to look vaguely impressed. "Hmph. That boy of mine is beyond help." He raised his eyes skyward, before closing them, as though he was meditating. "If he had a good, swiss education, none of this would have happened."

Jace looked slightly puzzled, but didn't comment. I couldn't blame him. My father took patriotism to a whole new level. It was...terrifying, to say the least.

"Valentine." My mother's voice held a warning tone as she laid a hand on his arm. "Please."

He grunted, turning away and taking a large bite out of his scone. "Just keep him out of my sight. I do not wish to witness such betrayal. It pains me."

Across the room, my eyes were drawn to Jace's. His golden eyes crinkled slightly with amusement, mirroring my own. After holding my gaze for a few seconds, we both burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys! I'm sorry that the time changes have been really confusing, I didn't realise that fanfiction deleted the little star things that I used as page breaks, so I'm sorry about the confusion there. <strong>

**I also apologise for the whole maths thing with Jon - kind of random, but as an irresponsible teenager with no plan for the future, I wasn't really sure what to do. I don't know. My knowledge of degrees and stuff basically extends to maths, science and english. And history and geography. And...art...stuff. Anyway. Sorry if that part's a little weird. **

**Hope you like this chapter!**

**-hamsiidris**


	9. Swiss Hats and Sugar

**Chapter Nine: Swiss Hats and Sugar**

The morning light filtering through my window was bright. Too bright. It stung my barely opened eyes and illuminated my little dusty room through the thick, blue curtains across the window pane.

I sat up, slowly, groping for my phone. Had I overslept?

My mouth was dry and tasted slightly bitter, and I was still in my jeans and a T-shirt, my clothes from yesterday. I must have fallen asleep at some point during my parents' disastrous visit, and Jon or my father had probably carried me back to bed. I mean, I may be a legal adult now, but I'm definitely not that heavy.

I stood, stretching, and brushed my messy hair out of my face, stumbling out of my door and into the lounge in my pajama shorts and oversized T-shirt.

"Nice jammies, Titch," a voice greeted as I stepped into the room, my eyes watering slightly in the sudden bright light.

Jace. He and Jonathan were sprawled across the sofa. Jon was wearing only trackie bottoms and pair of socks. Fortunately, Jace was wearing a complete set of pajamas - the kind that little boys wear in story books. Bright blue, with a hole in the left sleeve. A shirtless Herondale was not something I wanted to deal with early in the morning.

I replied with something halfway between a grunt a yawn and Jace smirked. Flopping across the other sofa, I asked, "So. What happened last night?"

Jonathan sighed. "It took Mum and Dad _ages _to leave. Jace had to leave eventually, because it was getting late and Dad was getting paranoid. So he went up to Magnus's until I called to say the coast was clear. As for you, little sister…" He smirked. "You were passes out by about ten o'clock. Mum was quite put out about that."

I sighed. "Great."

Jonathan nodded. "It was, actually. It was just brilliant, you know? With you gone, Dad spent the next couple of hours verbally abusing me for 'giving up' and 'dishonouring my bloodline' or grilling Jace like a criminal up for interrogation. It wasn't much fun."

"Sorry…" I yawned again. "I was tired."

"Still are," Jace noted with a smirk.

I shrugged. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly twelve," Jace replied. "You were totally passed out for more than twelve hours. I swear that's not normal, Titch."

I rolled my eyes. "I said I was _tired, _okay?"

Before Jace could respond, there was a loud ding that made us all jump, instinctively. The door bell. After being so on edge for the whole of yesterday, it was hardly surprising.

For a moment, none of us moved. I glanced at Jonathan, whose green eyes flashed nervously.

"It could be Magnus. Or Izzy. Or Mr. Starkweather, grouching about bills agian," I suggested, optimistically. "I'll get the door. And Jon...put a shirt on."

I hurried for the door, but it was already swinging open, framing a tall, blonde figure in the doorway. A figure I knew way too well.

But what the hell was my father doing here? Again? Hadn't we just had a hellish visit from him yesterday?

And what if he found Jace here, _in his pajamas?_ The game would be over. We'd all be dead.

"Dad?" I squeaked.

"Clarissa," he greeted, glancing at the door. "I'm sorry, it was unlocked. You should be more careful, you know."

"I'm sorry, _Dad_," I apologised, desperately speaking loudly in the hope that Jace would understand and go hide somewhere. "But _what are you doing here?"_

He frowned. "Are you not pleased to see me, Clarissa Adele?"

I sighed. "Of course I am, Dad. But...I just saw you yesterday…"

He _hmph_ed. "Yes. I'm afraid I left my hat behind. I've come to retrieve it. And see my beautiful daughter, of course."

"Your hat." My eyes were bugging out. "You drove three hours over here for a _hat_?"

He frowned. "It was a very special one - from Switzerland. My father gave it to me when I left for this miserable country, to marry your beautiful mother."

"Miserable country?" I shook my head. "Never mind. I'll find your hat, Dad… Just wait here," I offered, slightly desperate.

"Nonsense," he boomed, striding forward. "I'll get it myself, Clarissa. I'm perfectly capable."

I closed my eyes as he walked towards the lounge. If I had been religious, I probably would have prayed. Instead, I just hoped with all my might that the idiot boys that I happened to share a flat with had sorted themselves out in the few minutes of time that I had managed to buy them.

After what seemed like an age, I heard my father yelp, and knew it was all over.

I opened my eyes to see Jace and Jonathan, frozen in the middle of the lounge, looking like rabbits caught in the headlights of a car speeding towards them. No, more like a tractor. We were dead. So definitely dead.

"Dad!" Jon yelped. "Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?"

"What…?" My father gasped. "What is he still doing here? He left last night? He didn't stay did he? That… Jonathan. Clarissa. That is against the rules! What terrible things has he been up to. Oh, my children, as soon as I turn my back… How could you? You have dishonoured the Morgenstern Bloodline!"

"No, no, Dad," I leapt in, swiftly. "No, Dad, he didn't stay. He just came over now. He, uh, didn't have any milk. He came to borrow some. For his, um, tea."

My father raised a long, slender finger to point at Jace's offending outfit. "In pajamas?!"

_Good point. _

"He lives upstairs," Jon offered.

"But…" My father looked confused. "What about the sparkly man?"

In any other situation, I would have laughed. "Magnus?"

My father nodded, his face still ghostly pale. "Yes, that one. He lives upstairs."

"Yes, Dad," I said, soothingly, before something hit me. If anything was going to reassure my father that Jace was safe for me to be around, it was this. "Jace lives upstairs _with_ Magnus. You know…? His...boyfriend?"

Jace's eyes narrowed in my direction, but he didn't protest.

For a moment, my father just looked confused, before a light sparked in his silvery eyes. "Ah. _Ah. _I see." My father's face was slightly pink now. I heard him mutter something that sounded like, "a son of Stephen's" before calming down enough to glare at Jace. "Well, boy? Did you get what you were looking for?"

Jace recovered swiftly. "No, sir, not yet. I need some sugar as well. For my tea."

I frowned. "In a pot on the side. The one with the blue lid."

"Thanks, Clary. Jon." Jace nodded, sauntering out of the room and grabbing a pot off the side. "I'll give my love to my darling Magnus." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Fortunately, my father wasn't all that good at picking that kind of stuff up.

"Jace?" I called after him.

"Yes?" He turned around.

"That's the salt."

"Ah."

Nearly half an hour after Jace left, we finally managed to get our father out of the house, although he was still slightly wary that Jace would return as soon as he had left. With a brusque farewell, he stuffed his newly found hat over his graying-blonde hair and plodded down the steps, shooting us a suspicious look.

"Be careful, Clarissa. Behave, Jonathan."

We closed the door behind him, and, almost simultaneously let out a huge sigh of relief, sagging against the doorframe. We sat on the ground for a few seconds, elbows brushing against each other's and our breaths deep and uneven.

"That was close…" Jonathan sighed, before smiling at me. "Got to hand that one to you, Clary. Nice. Jace is probably going to kill you now.

I smirked. "Oh, it was well worth it. Did you see his face? When I said it?"

Jonathan snorted and I felt a bubble of laughed rising in my throat.

"And...Dad's face." Jonathan glanced up at me, and we both burst out laughing.

"'My darling Magnus,'" I quoted, gasping.

Jonathan grinned, and Jace chose that very moment to walk in the door, accidentally knocking me aside.

Jonathan and I just laughed harder at the sight of him.

"Really, Titch? My boyfriend?" He demanded, his golden eyes. "You're so going to pay for this, Clarissa _Adele._"

-0-

"How were your parents, Clary?" Simon asked, leaning over the table and lacing his fingers around his mug of coffee.

I raised a questioning eyebrow. Or attempted to, anyway. I've never been particularly good with the whole eyebrow thing. They just don't move independently; if one goes up, the other pretty much follows. "How'd you know about that?"

Simon laughed. "It's a long story. Basically Magnus told Alec who told Isabelle who told me that your parents were coming and you had some illegal guest in your flat." It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. Except that he could actually do it, which was just cruel. "What's that about, Clary?"

Isabelle smirked, pocketing her phone and taking a long sip of her own drink. "You've not seen him? He's pretty hard to miss."

Simon looked a little concerned. "What, is he like some famous criminal or something?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not that kind of illegal. Just, like, punishable-by-multiple-deaths-if-my parents-find-out kind of illegal."

Simon sighed. "Oh God. Have you lost your mind, Clary?"

I sighed. "Come on, Simon. It's not that big of a deal…"

Simon's mouth fell open. "_Not that big of a deal? _Are you joking? This is your father we're talking about. Not to mention your mother - she's scary too."

I laughed."Come on, Simon. They won't find out. Besides, they love you. It would be Jace, Jonathan and I who would be dead."

Simon frowned. "Maybe I just...care about you, Clary."

I rolled my eyes. "Riight. You just don't want to get in trouble with my parents. But don't worry. I've got it all covered. In my father's mind, the only person Jace's presence is a threat to is my _dearest _brother…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Haha, hope you like that one. It's a little shorter than usual, and I'm sorry if it's not all that good, but the majority of it was written in the early hours of Saturday morning. Very early hours. In fact, more like hour - 1:00. AND YES I SPELL PAJAMAS WEIRDLY I'M SORRY.<strong>


	10. Mistakes and Makeovers

**Chapter Ten: Mistakes and Makeovers**

"Absolutely not," I retorted, folding my arms across my chest. "It is a Thursday night. I have a tonne of work to do. Besides, no way in hell would I go anywhere with you anyway. Either of you."

"Oh really, Titch," Jace smirked. "You seemed pretty okay with it when you were standing outside Taki's like a pathetic little pumpkin in an oversized coat, waiting for me to come to your rescue."

I glared at him. "Pumpkin?"

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "I don't know. They're small and...ginger. And sometimes scary. Supposedly."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, tomorrow's Friday. You never stop gloating about how you don't have to get into class until after lunch on Fridays. Come on, Clary. Please?"

I chewed my lip suspiciously. "Mm hmm. But why the sudden interest. You've never wanted to drag me off to one of your stupid parties before."

Jon grinned. "I've never had anyone to dump you on if you bored me before."

I decided to skip the whole raising eyebrow thing. It wasn't going to work anyway. Instead, I just narrowed my eyes at him. "What?"

He laughed. "Never mind. Anyway, will you come? It's Chairman Meow and Church's third anniversary. Come on."

"Whose anniversary. No way is that actually a name," I snorted.

Jonathan smirked. "Magnus and Alec's cats. Like owner like pet, I suppose. Anyway, Magnus's parties are always good fun. Everyone's going to be there. Honestly, I think the whole cat thing is just an excuse to have a little fun. But come on, Clary."

I sighed. "Is it just upstairs?" I asked, hopefully. "Like, could I come home anytime if I want to?"

Jon smirked. "Yeah. You're lucky. The last one was at his little club thing - called Mr. Dry's or something. That was an interesting one…" He glanced at Jace, who smirked. "But yeah, this one's upstairs. You can come home if you want to."

"Do I have to?" I moaned, glaring at my laptop on the desk in front of me. I had better things to do than go to a stupid party.

Jonathan smirked. "You're no fun."

"Good," I smiled. "I like being no fun. It's most enjoyable."

Jon smirked. "I will, however, carry you to the party as you are…" He eyed my scruffy blue trackies and overlarge band T-shirt that had probably been Jon's at some stage, now that I think about it.

I folded my arms. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh really?" As lazy as my brother was, he could move incredibly fast when he wanted to. One minute, he was standing three metres in front of me, with a coffee table between us. Before I had time to blink so much as attempt to get away, he had lunged towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist and tossing me easily over his shoulder like a sack of flour. The breath was knocked out of my lungs as his shoulder ended up jammed into my ribs, my face pressed against the cool material of his shirt.

"Jon!" I gasped, pummelling his back with my fists. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, put me down!" I kicked him savagely in the stomach, but he barely flinched. I felt the muscles in his shoulder tense and flex as he reached for the door handle and stepped out onto the landing. "Right now!"

"Clarissa, you're making a scene," he chided.

"Put me down!" I hissed, trying to wriggle out of his grip. There were pounding footsteps coming up the stairs beside us, and I didn't particularly want any of Magnus's guests to be witness to the unfortunate situation I was tragically caught up in. "Please, Jon."

He laughed. "Will you go get changed and then come with us if I do?"

I nodded vigorously. "Uh huh. Just put me down."

He snorted. "Promise?"

I briefly considered biting down on his shoulder, as it was conveniently close to my face, but blanched at the thought. Gross. Who knew when he'd last washed his clothes? "I swear on the Angel," I said, dramatically, rolling my eyes. "And my new prismacolour pencils. Just let me go!"

Jon smirked. "If you insist."

He untangled his arms from my body, letting me topple out of his arms. For a terrifying second, I was free falling, the ground speeding up towards me as I clawed at Jon's T-shirt, trying desperately to catch myself.I landed ungracefully on my backside, shooting Jon a death glare as I stood up, wincing.

"Idiot," I hissed. "I could have broken something." I gingerly touched my tailbone to check for damage. "See, now I can't come. I'm injured."

Jonathan snorted. "Clarissa. You promised."

"Fine." I exaggeratedly limped towards the door. "Fine. Just give me twenty minutes."

-0-

"Clarissa Fray-Morgenstern," Isabelle smiled, spinning me around in my tatty blue desk chair. "You look beautiful."

My mouth fell open. For a few moment, I just stared at my reflection, not totally convinced at it was even me I was looking at. Sure, the girl in the mirror was small and redheaded, but my hair wasn't that...shiny and smooth. I had a wild mane of frizz that was my mother's greatest despair. And I didn't wear _dresses _or makeup or anything that vaguely resembled Isabelle's typical attire. If it was up to me, I would have gone to Magnus's stupid party in jeans and a clean T-shirt. Isabelle, on the other hand, had other ideas.

I'd called her immediately, mostly to moan about my idiot brother and beg her to come to the party with me. She showed up seven minutes later with a stack of dresses and a makeup kit so big it was practically a suitcase, delighted that I had finally succumbed to an invitation like this. This was her one chance, and she was determined to 'make me look like a girl, for once.' I kid you not, those were her exact words.

And Isabelle was true to her words. Now, I looked more like a girl than I had since my aunt Charlotte's wedding. I'd been five at the time, and I was a flower girl. As you can imagine, it went spectacularly. I tripped over the hem of my dress and crashed into a Ring Bearer boy, who also fell over. It was a traumatic experience. I vowed never to wear a dress again.

And yet here I was. Dressed in one of Isabelle's dresses, which was a slightly muted green shade that she said matched my eyes. It wasn't bad, as dresses go. The neckline was a little low for my liking, and it felt strangely thin and vulnerable - making me scared that I was going to rip it and end up racing home in my undies halfway through the night. Still, it was long enough for me to feel pretty comfortable in it, the hem stopping a few inches short of my knee.

The makeup was a different story. I felt like I was caked in something icky and unpleasant. My eyelashes were thick and heavy, and it was effort just to open my eyes, and my lips felt sticky and weird when I talked. I left them be, though, knowing that Isabelle would probably cut my hands off if I dared tamper with her 'masterpiece.' In other words, my face.

"You ready to go?" she asked, reaching out to put one of my curls back in place. "There. You look fabulous."

I smiled, following her out into the kitchen, where the boys were waiting for us.

I expected them to laugh at me, especially Jon, but there was just silence as we walked in, all eyes on me instead of Isabelle for the first time in my life. I mean, it wasn't like I looked any better than her, but it was just...so different from the usual me.

Jonathan recovered first, breaking into a smirk. "Well, Clary. Who knew you had it in you, hmm?" He smiled, raising an eyebrow. "You look nice."

Nice. That was it. Still, coming from Jonathan, that was probably a compliment. His usual comments on my appearance tended to be comparing me to some kind of animal. Not usually very pretty ones, either. Especially not in the mornings.

I glanced at Jace. His golden eyes were slightly wider than usual, and his mouth had gone slack. His sculpted, angular features had softened, along with the harsh intensity of his gaze, and found myself frozen in place once again by those molten-gold eyes.

I wanted to move, I wanted to look away. But it wasn't just his _eyes_ freezing me in place, I realised, taking a deep breath. It was something else, something far stupider. I wanted to know what he thought. His opinion mattered, as stupid as it might have been. And although Jace Herondale was the most annoying person on the planet, some small, rebellious part of me _cared. _Cared enough to hide him from my parents, and make up excuses for him. Cared enough to want to want him to care. About me.

Besides, it wasn't like I didn't subconsciously admire his looks. I wasn't going to deny that. I guess a tiny, hopeful part of me wondered if the favour was returned. Not that was any reason for it, of course. I mean, he was beautiful. I was...not.

After what felt like an eternity, he dropped his gaze, his cheeks slightly flushed as he turned away from me. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "You look nice."

I felt something shatter deep inside. Something small and vulnerable. Something I didn't know had existed until it broke. My breath hitched slightly, my heart rate speeding up as I turned away, my cheeks burning. How could I have thought that he would even care, would even notice what I was wearing. Just because I was wearing a pretty dress and a load of gunk on my face, didn't mean that I was any more than his best friends annoying little sister. It was stupid, beyond stupid, but I felt a lump rising in my throat and tears threatening to spill over my newly mascara-ed eyes.

_Stop it, Clary. Stop. _

Why did I even care? Why should I? I hated Jace Herondale, didn't I? He was the most annoying person on the planet. I'd hated him ever since he used my brand new colour pencils as darts when I was six. When had I suddenly decided that he mattered?

I didn't know. But hating him was easier.

"Excuse me," I muttered, brushing past him as we climbed the stairs to Magnus's apartment, hurrying to catch up with Isabelle.

"Clary." Jace caught my wrist and pulled me back, his golden eyes a dark, soft shade of near-brown in the dim light of the corridor. "Listen, I -"

I shrugged him off, sliding my wrist out of his grip and cradling it to my chest as I turned away. "Just…" I paused, not wanting to say anything too cruel. He hadn't really done anything wrong, had he? I'd just been stupid, stupid, stupid, and now I could hardly meet his eyes. "Just leave me alone…?"

My voice rose by about four octaves at the end of the sentance.

"Clary," he called after me. "Wait."

I was already clattering away from him on my borrowed platform heels - courtesy of Isabelle - taking the stairs two at a time in my hurry to catch up with Isabelle, to just get away from Jace and his annoyingly gorgeous eyes. I didn't stop until I was standing outside Magnus's door, my breathing ragged and my heart pounding from the hurried climb.

Isabelle was waiting for me, totally oblivious to everything that had happened in the last few minutes. For that I was pretty grateful. I didn't want to have to explain it to her, I couldn't even explain it to myself.

_Just don't think about it, Clary. You don't care. He's just your annoying older brother's even more annoying friend, okay?_

I swallowed, as Isabelle grinned widely at me, reaching for the knocker on Magnus's large, weirdly oval-shaped door.

"Let's get this party started." She reached for my arm, and together, with her half dragging me, we stepped inside, instantly swallowed by a sea of music, people and lights.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So. Clace. I'm sorry there wasn't much excitement in this chapter, not much happened, I know. But the next one should be...*wiggles eyebrows* very interesting. And lots of people were asking about Clace, so...there you go :) Hope you guys like it!<strong>


	11. Lightweight

**Chapter Eleven: Lightweight**

I swayed unsteadily on my feet, smiling widely as Isabelle grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards her. I stumbled over something - probably my own feet - and went sprawling into her. I would have face planted on Isabelle's shoes if she hadn't caught me, propping me upright and glaring at me.

"And where have you been?" she demanded.

I giggled. "Here. I didn't go anywhere. I've been talking to Elliot," I flashed a smile at the boy behind the counter, who was holding a rat in one hand and a glass in the other. "He gave me drink." I gigged loudly, waving at him. "Hey, Elliot -"

Isabelle cut me off, slapping me on the arm. "What the hell have you been drinking?"

I shrugged. "Elliot gave it to me…"

"Yeah." Isabelle looked ready to kill someone. "I figured. What was it?"

"Something," I smiled, sagging into Isabelle's arms, suddenly exhausted. She caught me before roughly shoving me against the counter.

"Get off. What did it look like?"

I giggled. "It was...blue. I think. It might have been purple. Or maybe green. It was...colourful," I babbled.

"Spiked," Isabelle muttered. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Hey." I pouted, putting my hands on my hips and nearly falling over in the process. "Why are you so...grouchy." I pulled on a lock of her dark hair, laughing. Isabelle didn't even smile. "Why so serious? You were the one who said to have fun."

Isabelle smiled, but it wasn't her usual snarky smile; it was grim and deadly serious. "I am having fun. _Sensible _fun. It's not even ten yet, and you're…" She wrinkled her nose. "Totally wasted. How many drinks did you have?"

I waved my hand vaguely. "It might have been two. Or four. Or tree.."

"Three," Isabelle corrected, sighing. "Jesus, Clary, you've never even _drank _before…"

I frowned. "I drink all the time."

Her eyes bulged out. "What?"

I smiled sweetly. "Water. Juice. Tea. Coffee."

Isabelle took a deep breath. "I swear to god I will kill that boy."

I shook my head, standing up and lifting a hand to hold her back. My head was spinning so badly I had to sit back down. Hmm. Suddenly, I didn't feel so -

Isabelle shrieked loudly as I clapped a hand over my mouth, doubling over. "No," she hissed. "Not here."

She threw an arm over my shoulder and half carried me across the dance floor. I was dimly aware of a door being opened and a light being flicked on, but the sudden brightness hurt my head so badly I had to close my eyes.

"Here." Isabelle dumped me unceremoniously on the bathroom floor. I opened my eyes. The toilet bowl was too close to my face for comfort, and I squirmed uncomfortably, turning to Izzy.

"I don't -"

I didn't even have time to finish before I was violently sick into the toilet. I stumbled backwards, head reeling as the smell hit me, making me want to puke again.

"Come on." Izzy's voice was far from gentle. "Clean yourself up, Clarissa."

I felt a bubble of laughter rising in my throat. "Cla-riss-a. Cla-ry. Clary, Clary, Clary."

The word sounded good. Why was it so familiar. _Oh yeah. _It was my name.

"Izzy," I giggled, testing out her name too. "Iz-"

"Shush." There was the sound of running water, and then something cold hit me on the chin. Something cold and wet that made me recoil, stumbling into the wall.

Ten minutes later, Izzy had managed to clean me up using a handful of toilet paper and some water. I was cold, damp and not much more sober, although I couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or not. Maybe it was good. It definitely felt nice.

I was sitting on the cold, tired floor, resting against the wall behind me while Izzy attempted to get me to drink a glass of water.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Izzy asked. "When it comes to stuff like this, listen to me, okay? Lightweight." She sighed, ruffling my hair.

I folded my arms. "I'm not that small."

She rolled her eyes. "That wasn't what I was… Oh, never mind. You want me to walk you home?"

I opened one eye to glance at her, before sitting up and grinning widely. "Are you kidding?" I giggled. "We've only just started."

-0-

It was probably about midnight when I finally crumbled. Quite literally. I fell over right in the middle of the dance floor, taking this sweet guy with a bow tie out with me. In hindsight, I don't even remember his name, although he probably told me.

There were voices buzzing around me, mostly laughing, but I couldn't hear anything over the blaring music as I struggled to sit up, my head spinning. People barely registered the fact that there was a girl practically passed out on the floor in front of them, simply dancing around me as I tried to think past the foggy thoughts that were buzzing around my sluggish brain.

I briefly considered just lying there. I was too tired to move, to tired to think. My head was light, my stomach was churning, and the music made my aching head pound even more.

I was just about to give up, when a pair of strong arms encircled my waist. I was dimly aware of being lifted into the air, of someone laughing, and then a familiar voice speaking against the back of my neck, his breath tickling my ear.

"Hey, Titch."

I giggled in response. "No, I'm Clary."

There was a loud sigh. The arms holding me were warm and strong, and I snuggled against the smooth material of a shirt. I could tell that we were walking - or at least, the person holding me was. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through my head.

"How much did you drink, Clary?" The voice asked.

"Hmm… That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how much I drank."

Another sigh. "God. It's bad isn't it."

"No!" I protested. "Uh uh. It's fun."

"Mm hmm." There was a click, and then a wave of cold air washed over me, making me shiver. "I think you need some fresh air, Clary."

We were walking down steps, I think, because the journey was suddenly a lot jerkier, a lot more painful for my head. And then we were outside, the air in my lungs suddenly cool and crisp and clear. It no longer smelled of vomit and alcohol and sweat. I smiled faintly, afraid I was going to be sick again.

"Thank you," I breathed.

After a few more minutes of moving, we stopped. I was lifted gently down and set on something hard, cold and uncomfortable. My head was resting on something warm and covered in rough material. I opened my eyes and saw a pair of amber orbs floating in front of me.

No. They were eyes. Golden eyes.

"You have pretty eyes." I smiled. "They look like...Ja...Jace's."

Laughter. That was definitely laughter. "Maybe that's because I _am_ Jace."

I snorted. "No. Jace isn't this...nice."

The boy holding me stiffened slightly. "Isn't he?"

"No." I shook my head, firmly. "He's annoying...and beautiful."

The boy relaxed, laughing again. "Beautiful."

"Uh huh." I nodded, before frowning. "But don't tell him I said that."

A pause. "Okay."

I shivered, curling up into a little ball.

"Oh, are you cold?" The boy asked. I could feel him moving, my head slipping down and out of his lap, landing on the hard surface beneath me. I opened my eye a crack, to see what I'd landed on, just to assess the damage. It was a bench. Definitely a bench. I was lying across a bench with my head in some guy's lap. Okay.

Seconds later, something soft and warm was placed over my body, tucked in gently around my shoulders. I smiled, content as I snuggled into it, burying my head in the soft material.

I'm not sure how long we sat there. It could have been anywhere from ten minutes to a couple of hours. I dozed off once or twice, so it was hard to tell. Still, I eventually sobered up enough to sit up, wrapping my makeshift blanket around my shoulders.

"Jace?" I murmured, sitting up. That was the only thing, the only name that stood out to me after all of tonight's events. The only thing I could remember, however dimly.

"I'm here."

I was too dazed - and probably still too drunk - to think about what had happened earlier, about how we'd gotten here, about what I'd said. At least this time, I knew it was Jace I was talking to.

I glanced up at him. He looked tired, his eyelids drooping over his golden eyes, his hair mussed up and flattened over one side. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had fallen asleep. He was wearing only a thin, black shirt, and I realised, with a dull jolt, that I had his jacket draped over my shoulders.

I leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes. "What happened?"

Unfortunately, I no longer felt anything resembling light or happy. My head felt like a dead weight on my shoulders, pounding relentlessly, and I was just confused, tired and basically ticked off.

Jace smiled. "Oh, nothing too bad. You nearly passed out on the dance floor. I brought you out here. You slept. I slept. We woke up."

"You slept with me?" I smirked. Okay. So maybe the alcohol hadn't totally worn off.

His cheeks coloured. "No. That isn't what I…" He paused. "Listen, Clary, I'm sorry about earlier."

I closed my eyes. _Oh God. _I wasn't so drunk I couldn't remember that. Hell, that was the only thing I could remember.

"I lied."

"What?" I stared at Jace. That wasn't what I had been expecting at all.

His eyes were serious. "I lied, when I said you looked nice." I struggled to decide whether or not he was joking, but he continued before I could make up my mind. "You didn't look nice. You looked beautiful."

My breath hitched in my throat and I opened my eyes. Those golden orbs were so close to my face, I could see every fleck of colour, every different shade.

"Jace…" I smiled, my eyes drawn to his lips, which had softened slightly. I could smell his aftershave - something exotic, like mango - and resisted the urge to take a deep breath, to breath him in. "You did?"

He nodded. "Clary, I always think you're beautiful."

My heart fluttered in my chest. Even in my present state, I could understand the implications of his words. And yet...they made no sense. Not coming from him. I must have been dreaming. In fact, I was probably still passed out on the dance floor at Magnus's.

But that didn't stop me from responding. If this was a dream, I was sure as hell going to enjoy it.

"I think you're beautiful too."

Jace laughed. "Beautiful? My charm is very manly, I assure you."

I giggled. "Handsome, then. _Hot._"

He smiled, a pure, sweet smile, so unlike his typical grin. He leaned forward and I drew myself up towards him with a deep breath.

But he paused, just as our faces were centimetres apart. "We shouldn't. If Jon found out…"

I laughed. "He'll never have to know."

Jace smiled, and I could tell that was all it had took to convince him. him. "You won't either. You won't remember any of this in the morning."

"I won't forget."

"Oh yes you will."

I opened my mouth to protest, and that was all he needed. Golden eyes gleaming, Jace leaned in, closing the distance between us, and pressed his lips to mine.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So. It happened. I hope that was adequate, given that I have never a) been drunk or b) kissed someone. Anyway, I was a little nervous about this one :) and I hope it was good enough... And yeah, posting twice in a day... Ah well. I had a lot of free time, not much homework, and an impatient little sister. <strong>


	12. Faded Memories

**Chapter Twelve: Faded Memories**

God, my head hurt.

I stirred uncomfortably, pulling the blankets around my face to shield my eyes from the light. That hurt too. A lot.

In fact, everything hurt. My feet, my legs, my arms, shoulders and back. Even my teeth hurt. I felt like an old woman. Still, all of that paled in comparison to the relentless, agonising pounding in my skull.

I opened an eye slowly, vaguely wondering why it was so light in the room. It was never this light in my bedroom, not with my heavy curtains and general accumulation of dust. And this wasn't my bed, it was narrower and harder and less...familiar.

And that sure as hell wasn't my pillow.

I jerked upright, sending a fresh wave of pain through my head, glancing down at my makeshift bed. I was sprawled across a sofa - my sofa, fortunately. Someone had draped a duvet over my shoulders, and my borrowed high-heels were on the floor next to me.

What was most concerning however, was the object I had just been using as a pillow. It was an arm. A human arm. Connected to a very human body that was curled over next to me, largely hidden in the duvet and very definitely asleep.

I shifted gingerly along the sofa, trying not to wake the sleeping figure next to me. For a moment, I fervently hoped that it was Jonathan. But when I stood up, the blanket slid to the side and golden curls spilled out over the top of the duvet, confirming my fears.

It was Jace. I had just been sleeping next to Jace. Sleeping _with _Jace.

As I stretched, cracking about fifty joints in the process, a bubble of nausea rose up in my throat. Somehow I didn't think that my sudden desire to throw up had anything to do with the sleeping arrangements of last night.

_Oh God. The party._

I raced for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I threw up the contents of my stomach, mainly acid that burned like hell on the way up, into the pristine white bowl. I coughed, choking on bile and other substances that I really didn't want to think about, before retching again, and again, until there was nothing left for me to puke.

And then I curled into a little ball, buried my head in my arms and burst into tears.

I wasn't really sure why I was crying. Maybe it was because I felt like crap, or maybe it was because I had been such an idiot last night. Or maybe it was a side effect of the alcohol. I wouldn't know, would I? I'd never had more than a drop of my mother's champagne before yesterday.

I made a soft choking sound, spluttering on my tears and the horrible taste in my mouth from the vomit that I had just spewed out into the toilet.

_How could I have been such an idiot?_

I closed my eyes, letting the tears drip down my cheeks, wallowing in my self pity. This wasn't happening. Jonathan was the stupid, reckless one, who made did what he wanted and made mistakes and laughed about them afterwards. I was the quiet one, the good girl, the straight A student. I'd never done anything remotely 'irresponsible' in my life. I'd never done anything that would disappoint my parents.

_What had happened to me?_

"Clary?"

_Jonathan. _

I froze for a second. I didn't want him to see me crying. I didn't want him to worry about me. Because then I'd be forced to worry about myself, instead of just pretending that nothing had happened.

"Go away," I replied, roughly, not even lifting my head. "Leave me alone."

"Hey, Clary…" I heard footsteps, padding across the bathroom floor towards me. Then an arm encircled my shoulder and pulled me close, so my head was resting against Jonathan's chest. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, harshly. "Please go away, Jon?"

There was a brief silence. "Is this about last night? Jace told me all about it. I heard you got totally wasted." Pause. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I made you go. I should have let you do what you wanted."

I lifted my head slightly. As much as it felt nice to have someone to blame, I knew that it wasn't really Jon's fault. It wasn't like he'd forced the liquid down my throat. He just hadn't known that he'd have to keep an eye out for me. He expected better of me.

I shook my head. "No. It was my fault. I'm an idiot. How can I… Jon, this isn't…" I wiped my eyes. "How could I do something like that? What will everyone think? I mean, _everyone _was there, Jon…"

Jonathan laughed, and I glanced up at him, slightly hurt. I was spilling my innermost emotions to him. He wasn't supposed to _laugh _at them. "Clary. What you did - it wasn't such a big deal."

I stared at him, my tears halted by the shock of his words. "What?"

Jonathan smiled. "It's not that big a deal, Clarissa. I hate to break it to you, but it's hardly the end of the world." He reached for the toilet paper, tearing some off and handing me a wad of it. "Here. Wipe the sick off your face before you hug me," he teased, re-wrapping his arms around me. "But seriously, Clary. I mean, you went over the top a little… But it's not like you or I or anyone knew what was going to happen. It was your first time, and I didn't think you were going to be out like a zombie after what, three glasses? Anyway. I'm not saying it was good or anything, mostly because Mum and Dad would kill me if I gave you such terrible advice. But you weren't even the worst person there. You should have seen Rufus Hastings… But that's another story. I mean, Clary, the first time I went to a part like that, I broke my toe and ended up having to call Dad to come pick me up. That was awful. The toe wasn't even the worst injury I had after Dad found out where I'd been…"

I suppressed a smile, wiping my face with the tissue and nuzzling into the crook of Jonathan's arm. He was an idiot, but he knew how to make me feel better, even at the worst of times.

"Anyway, Clary, my point is that you might think it was bad, and Izzy and Jace might think you're an idiot… But it's no big deal. As you're big brother, I have to advise you never to do anything like that again. But I don't think you will anyway. I mean, I'm not saying you shouldn't have a little fun. Just…" He ruffled his hair awkwardly with the palm of his hand. "Uh, know your limits, I guess. Anyway, I'm going to stop with this whole advice thing, but Clary…" He grinned, ruffling my hair. "I'm proud of you. You've got to live a little sometimes. Being daddy's girl - or mum's, to be fair - isn't going to work forever. And I know it didn't go as planned last night, but… Go big or go home, right?"

I laughed, before reaching up and pulling Jonathan into a hug, my fingers closing tightly around his shoulder blades and pulling him close.

"Thanks, Jon," I whispered, slightly choked with emotion - being the annoyingly emotional person that I am. "You're going to make a great dad someday," I teased.

He laughed. As I pulled away, he ruffled my hair affectionately, before standing up and offering me a hand. I used it to pull myself to my feet after him.

"Just… Don't feel bad about it, Clary. It's okay. Yeah?"

I nodded.

"Good." Jonathan smiled. "Now, clean yourself up, and I'll go buy you some coffee. You'll need it."

I smiled. It was nice to have my brother back. We'd been close as kids, but grew apart over the years. Still, it was reassuring to know that not that much had changed. That he would still have my back, when I needed it the most.

-0-

Twenty minutes and a long, hot shower later, I emerged into the kitchen in my fluffy blue dressing gown. Despite my intense headache, I felt a lot better - mentally at least. The shower had helped. I'd gotten rid of the gunky make up on my face and brushed my teeth at least four times to get rid of the smell and taste left in my mouth as a haunting reminder of last night.

Jon was sitting at the table with a _Java Jones _takeaway cup in hand. My eyes, however, were drawn to the figure leaning against the wall behind him.

Looks like Jace had finally decided to wake up.

I stared at him, a mixture of emotions rushing through me. Somewhat problematically, I couldn't remember much of last night. No images or sounds remained in my memory - just feelings. His arms cradling me like I was a little child. His jacket wrapped around my shoulders. His light, gentle fingers running across my cheek. Okay. That memory was definitely not as innocent as the others, and totally out of context, but that was one of the few things I did remember, so I chose to believe it. But what had truly happened remained a mystery.

He was leaning against the counter, wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday. They were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them - which he probably had, considering out sleeping arrangements. I could feel my cheeks heat up at the memory, and tried not to think about that minor complication. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow, and the top few buttons on his chest open, the collar crinkled. Slowly, gradually, almost reluctantly, I lifted my eyes to glance at his face.

His golden eyes locked with mine. This time, however, I wasn't the first to look away.

Jace dropped his gaze almost immediately, his face flushing bright, bright red. My eyes widened slightly. Jace Herondale did _not _blush. Not like that.

_Oh God. _What had happened last night?

Not for the last time, I cursed myself for drinking my way into oblivion last night. I hated not knowing what had happened. I could have stripped and ran around naked for an hour singing, for all I knew.

Not that Jonathan would withhold that piece of information from me. He's be laughing right now if any of that had happened.

Still, something must have happened. Something not good. Very not good.

I swallowed.

"Hey, Clary," Jon greeted, passing me a coffee cup. "Sorry if it's cold. You should have showered faster."

I rolled my eyes, accepting the cup and wrapping my cold fingers around it. "Thanks. Is it-"

"Yep." Jonathan smirked. "Don't worry. It's black."

"Like my soul," I laughed.

Jonathan smiled. "Mmm hmm." Then he raised an eyebrow -

_Damn. How come everyone can do that except me?_

-and adopted a concerned expression. "How are you feeling.

"Like crap," I sighed, flopping into one of the chairs and taking a sip of coffee.

Jonathan nodded sympathetically. "You going to class?"

I frowned. "I can't skip class because I did some stupid, _sinful _things last night," I informed him, somewhat melodramatically. "And I've got a project to finish by the end of next week that I really need to -"

Jonathan smiled. "Considering that you're not a repeat offender, and your first hangover is going to be hell, I think you should stay home. You haven't missed a day since September. Take it easy, Clary."

I briefly considered arguing, but decided against it. My head hurt too much for me to think properly, let alone argue with my stubborn brother. Picking a fight with him was exhausting enough when I _didn't _feel like my head had just been run over with a spiteful steamroller.

I slumped over, burying my face in my hands. "Okay."

Jon blinked. "Really? I don't have to tie you to your bed or anything to make sure you don't try to leave?"

I glared at him. "I'm tired."

He smirked. "I figured. Why don't you just go back to bed, Sunshine?"

I didn't argue. Bed seemed like a nice idea.

Sleeping, however, was more of an issue. My head hurt, especially with the sunlight streaming into my room, and I couldn't quite get comfortable enough to sleep. Jon, who was being miraculously sweet, for once, popped in a few times; once with paracetamol and a glass of water and once, around lunchtime, with a bowl of soup. He assured me that he hadn't made it himself, which was fortunate, considering that he can't even fry an egg.

I finally gave up trying to sleep and trudged outside with my duvet and laptop, flopping across the sofa and booting up my ancient device.

"Hey, Titch," Jace greeted, somewhat unenthusiastically from behind me as he emerged into the living room. His voice was muted, almost embarrassed, and I was freshly reminded of the horrors of last night.

"Jace." I scrambled to sit up, drawing the blanket around me.

He grunted nondescriptly, heading for Jon's - and his, I suppose - room, but I grabbed his wrist as he walked by, almost instinctively. I let go almost immediately, cursing myself silently, but Jace had already turned around.

His gold eyes flashed as he whirled around, glaring at me, cheeks flushed. "What do you want, Titch?" I flinched slightly, and his expression softened. He continued in a gentler tone. "What is it, Clarissa?"

I cursed myself yet again for grabbing at him like that, pulling him back when I really had nothing to say. "Uh… Thank you. For last night. I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't…" I cleared my throat. "Anyway. I just wanted to say thanks."

Jace's eyes had warmed to a shade that was amber, nearly brown. "It was nothing. Jon's my best mate. I'd be a crappy friend if I just left you there." He paused. "You, um, don't remember anything?"

My eyes widened fractionally. _Oh god. Here it comes. _

"No…" I tried to sound casual. "Why? What happened?"

Jace smirked. "Oh, nothing."

I glowered at him. "_What did I do?_"

Jace's smile only grew wider, and I felt my heart rising to my throat. How bad could it have been...right? I couldn't have done anything that bad, or he wouldn't be smiling.

I was totally, devastatingly wrong.

"You told me I was beautiful. Hot. I don't remember your exact words, but you used quite a few."

I could feel my cheeks burning so hard I could have cooked a pizza on it. "No," I gasped.

Jace only seemed amused by my distress. "Yeah."

I closed my eyes. _This isn't happening. Not even I can make this much of a fool of myself. Please let Jace be messing with me. _

"I wasn't...that drunk…" I managed, lamely.

Jace laughed. "Are you kidding? You didn't even know it was me. You told me that I looked like 'Jace.' And then you told me that 'Jace' was annoying..."

I smiled in relief. Maybe I hadn't _totally_ screwed up.

"...and beautiful."

My heart sank.

Jace smiled. "And that wasn't even the best of it." He stood up, heading for the door. "Nice speaking to you, Titch. You're much more cheerful when you're drunk. You should try it more often."

I ignored his jibe, lunging for him to try and hold him back. He dodged easily, smirking and barely breaking his stride.

"Wait!" I gasped. "What did I say, Herondale? What happened? Come back here right now, or I swear by the Angel that I will -"

With that, he shut the door in my face, still laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey! Sorry, it's been a while, but life just kind of got in the way, I guess. Stupid SATs. Anway, hope you guys like this one. And please keep reviewing, they make my day every time :) LOVE YOU GUYS! <strong>

**-hamsiidris**


	13. Football and Frost

**Chapter Thirteen: Football and Frost**

"I still don't see why I have to come," I complained, folding my arms.

Jonathan turned around to face me, frowning. "Come on, Clary. First game of the year. You have to watch."

I rolled my eyes. "But it starts at half nine. You can't seriously expect me to sacrifice sleep for one of your stupid football games."

Jonathan sighed. "You wound me, Clarissa. Stupid football games?"

I snorted. "I've been watching you kick a ball around since you were about four. It's nothing new. Besides." I nodded at Jace, who was sitting on the other side of Jonathan, in football kit. "It's not like you're going to be alone."

Jon smiled. "Oh shut up. It'll be fun."

Before I could argue, the tube clattered to a stop and Jon surged to his feet, draping his sports bag over his shoulder. Jace followed suit, and I padded reluctantly after them. The underground smelled of sweat and smoke and several other things that I didn't want to think about. The warm, stale air was suffocating enough, without thinking about the cause of the smell that turned my stomach as I followed my brother through a sea of people and machines, towards the stairs.

Fortunately, Jonathan knew what he was doing, and we emerged into the open air fairly quickly. I was wrapped up warmly in about six layers, but the boys were just wearing hoodies and shorts. I suppose the knee-socks helped somewhat, but just looking at them made me cold.

"How far is it?" I grumbled. I had to jog a little to keep up with them, which was unfair, to say the least. It wasn't my fault I had short legs.

Jon glanced at me, boredly. "Ten minutes walk. If we're quick."

I sighed, stuffing my freezing hands in my pockets. This was going to be a long few hours.

There were frosty puddles along the road, and I entertained myself by breaking the ice on top of every one as we walked past it.

"That's not a great idea, Titch," Jace warned, eyeing the puddle in front of us.

I ignored him, stamping on the ice, which promptly shattered, causing my foot to sink deep into three inches of mud.

"Argh!" I yelped, scrambling away from the ice. One shoe - which were relatively new, I might add - was completely coated in mud, up to about mid-ankle.

Jace smirked. "I told you."

I glared at him. "Shut it, Herondale," I mumbled, lowering my head to hide my flaming cheeks.

Jonathan snorted.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, due to my brother's awful sense of direction and my insistence on stopping to wipe my shoe with a leaf, we arrived at the football pitch. Actually, calling it a pitch is quite liberal, on my part. It was more of a grassy field with flimsy goals and a flimsy little set of bleachers to serve as a stand. The turnout, however, was pretty good, considering that it was two low-key teams playing a 'friendly' match against each other.

It looked like I was going to be standing.

Jonathan grinned, turning around and handing me a fistful of cloth. "Here. Take this."

I unfolded it warily. It was red and silky, with a sloppy picture of some bird scrawled across the front in black pen. It was so bad it made me cringe, but I bottled the urge to wrinkle my nose and stared at Jonathan. A two year old could easily have made it, but I suspected it was my brother's handiwork. "What the hell is this?"

He smiled, pointing at the letters that he had written across the bottom of it. HAWKS. "It's a banner." He took it from me and wrapped it around my shoulders. "When the game starts, you're going to wave it, to show your support for our brilliant team."

"No." I shook my head vigorously. "Nu-uh. I am not waving that. Not for a million pounds."

Jonathan's face fell slightly, making him look like a wounded puppy. "I haven't got a million pounds."

He sounded so dejected, that I was forced to give in. "Fine. Whatever. Just…" I crinkled my nose. "Leave all of the artistic endeavours to me from now on. You should stick to football."

Jonathan instantly brightened. "Why Clarissa, are you offering to lend your artistic prowess to the cause." I frowned in confusion, and he rolled his eyes. "In simple terms, Clarissa, will you make us a banner next time?"

I thought about it for a second. "Will I still have to come?"

Jonathan smiled. "Duh. Who would carry the banner?"

I sighed. "The next time I decide to get out of bed at eight in the morning to go to one of your football games, I'll bring a banner."

"Good." Jonathan smiled. "I'm going go get changed. Wish me luck?"

-0-

Jonathan was still in shock.

"We lost."

"Yes." I glanced at him, resting a concerned hand on his forearm. "You did."

"The score…?"

I sighed. This was going to be difficult to break to him, although it was probably about the fifth time I'd said it to him. He just kept refusing to listen. "Five - one."

Jonathan's eyes were still wide. "No."

"Yes," I said, soothingly. "But I waved my banner very well."

Jonathan didn't respond.

I glanced at Jace, who was sitting on the bench next to my brother, looking absolutely shattered. His blonde hair was damp, sticking flat to his forehead. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and exertion. His clothes clung to his body with sweat, accentuating his lean, sinewy muscle underneath.

_No, Clary. Look away. Not the abs. Look away. _

It didn't help that, despite myself, I liked what I saw, but I managed to tear my eyes away, back to his face. What, I must admit, was no less attractive.

But this was _Jace _I was talking about. Who was I kidding?

"Help me?" I pleaded.

Jace sighed, standing up stiffly and clapping Jonathan on the shoulder weakly. "You played well, Jon. Now let's get back home. I could do with a shower."

Jonathan stood up, looking numb from shock. He was totally hopeless. I could tell from the lost expression on his face that it had never even crossed his mind that they might lose.

"But...we lost?"

Jace was too tired to respond.

The walk back to the station was far longer than the walk out had been. The boys were exhausted, and Jonathan was still obsessing over his loss, which made the whole situation a little melodramatic.

To make matters worse, the train was packed full, and there were only two empty seats in the carriage that we'd gotten onto. Being the loving sister that I am - sometimes - I gave the boys the seats, considering that they both looked like walking corpses. I hovered awkwardly above them, hanging onto the yellow pole beside me for support.

Jon stared up at me out of somewhat vacant eyes.

"Hey, Jon. You played well…" I paused, glancing at Jace."Uh, both of you. That's all that matters, right?"

It was true - they'd both played pretty amazingly. I mean, I'd grown up watching Jon play, but Jace was pretty damn skilled, too. He was the fastest guy on the pitch, darting around like a golden bolt of lightning. It just hadn't been enough.

Jon shook his head. "No. Winning matters."

I sighed. "Great."

I decided to hold my tongue, given that nothing that I was saying actually appeared to help. Instead, I rooted around in my pocket for my phone, trying to find a way of passing time other than trying to pacify my brother. Or reading tube maps. I'd inadvertently memorised them on the way here - I'd been so bored.

Suddenly, the train lurched sharply and I was thrown off balance, stumbling forward. My heart was in my throat as I was sent flying towards the nearest wall.

Fortunately, I never hit the wall. I was intercepted by something solid and warm.

Unfortunately, that thing was human. And I appeared to be sitting on their lap.

I mentally prayed that I hadn't landed on some fifty year old man, opening my eyes a crack. Then they flew open the rest of the way, as I stared into a pair of golden eyes.

I was sitting on Jace Herondale's lap, my hands planted on the window on either side of his head, my face centimetres from his.

My heart raced slightly as his golden eyes warmed, softening as we stared at each other. For some reason, this distance didn't scare me - or disgust me, even - in the way that it should have. His entire face had softened, the hard lines replaced by gentle curves. His body was tense beneath me, neither of us doing so much as breathing. It was achingly familiar. Except that it wasn't...was it?

I blinked, pulling away. The moment was shattered. I threw my hands up, bracing them against Jace's chest, as using that to vault myself away from him. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the best placement, but that wasn't really my fault.

Jace still seemed to be recovering, his luminous eyes swimming back into focus. There was something hard to his gaze, something like desire, like _hunger. _I didn't breath, didn't blink, didn't dare move. Then he ducked his head, a dark shade of red tinting his cheeks.

Jonathan had snapped out of his trance to stare at us. "What...you know, I don't want to know." For a second, I was terrified that he might have misinterpreted that, considering that he hadn't really been paying attention until that point. Then he smirked, and I knew he was joking.

"I fell…" My voice was breathier than I intended. I cleared my throat. "Sorry."

Jace didn't even glance up. "I know you can't keep you hands off me - it's hard, I know - but do try to restrain yourself, Titch."

A lump formed in my throat. I should have shot back with a snappy retort, like I normally would have done. I shouldn't have cared. It was a passing joke - albeit an incredibly mean one. Instead, I dropped my head, my face burning.

_I am going to kill Jace Herondale._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi! Just a clarification: by football, I mean like soccer. I'm British, lol, so... Yeah. <strong>

**Thanks again for your reviews :) I love you guys.**

**Hope you like this one.**


	14. Sunshine and Blondie

**AN: Okay. So. Lots of you have been asking for a Jace POV, and I hate to disappoint, but I don't know if I'm going to do one. I mean, to be honest, the prospect terrifies me because I don't want to ruin such an awesome character… And I feel like it would kind of mess with the flow of the story at this point… Anyway, I'm really sorry to disappoint, but for now, I'm going to stick to what sort of feels right to me. I'm planning a potential Jace POV later on (probably an epilogue thing) but… Yeah. I hope that's okay with you guys. **

**Or I could publish one now, but as a separate (really short) story? I'd be totally happy to do that. Tell me what you guys think.**

**Anyway, thanks again for following/favouriting/reviewing. The support I've recieved on this so far has been incredible (to be honest, I didn't expect **_**anyone **_**to read this…) and I feel a little bad that I have to disappoint with no Jace POV for now… Thanks guys :)**

**Hope you like this chapter. Honestly, it's not one of **_**my **_**favourites, but oh well. THERE WILL BE CLACE VERY SOON FEAR NOT MY FREINDS!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Sunshine and Blondie<strong>

"Damn…" I muttered, closing the cupboard and doubling over to open the drawer beneath it. An empty chocolate wrapper and half a tin of ancient baked beans greeted me. I gingerly lifted the tin towards me. The lid was hanging over one side slightly, and I could see enough through the little gap to know that they were moldy. Even so, the smell said it all.

Wincing, I held the tin out at arms length and dropped it into the bin, before washing my hands profusely under the tap.

Great. This whole situation was just wonderful. There was not a spoonful of food in our entire flat, unless you fancied eating coffee powder, tea bags or moldy baked beans. Nothing. Not even a banana - which, at this point, I was hungry enough to eat.

I sighed, leaning against the counter and closing my eyes. On a normal day, I would have just headed for the nearest Sainsburys, but it was already dark outside, and I didn't feel like running into Six Fingered Nigel again. Jeez, I still had nightmares about that.

Jonathan was out with Kaelie - apparently it was her birthday - and I couldn't exactly get him to go either.

"Hey, Titch."

A voice broke through my thoughts, and I glanced up to see Jace hovering in the doorway, his golden curls damp and glistening, as though he'd just come out of the shower. The faint scent of mango lingered in the air - sweet and delicious. Just the smell made my stomach rumble, even if it was probably just his shampoo or something.

Damn, it smelled amazing.

"We have no food," I complained.

Jace frowned. "None? But…"

"None."

"Ah." Jace sighed. "That's tragic." He grinned at me. "I guess we'll have to go buy some then. We can take my bike. It'll be quicker."

"No." I folded my arms. "Uh huh. Jon - and my mother, for that matter - is going to murder you if you let me go on your bike."

Jace smirked. "You won't be driving, Titch. Anyway, it's Jonathan's fault. Not that that's anything new. But he left us here, defenseless and without food. Come on, Titch. I'm not starving because you're too stubborn to come with me." He paused. "Besides, Clarissa… If you don't come with me, I might accidentally forget to buy food for you. I mean, you are quite a forgettable person…"

I contemplated it for a moment. My safety, Jonathan's sanity and a possible inflation of Jace's ego all rolled into one, or...food.

It take long for me to make up my mind.

"We've been over this before, Titch," Jace sighed. "You're going to have to hold on."

I glared at him, which was quite a feat through the overlarge bike helmet that Jace had loaned me. It was about three times larger than my head, and kept sliding down over my eyes, but there was no way I was riding without it. Last time had been...an exception. I'd been desperate. This time, I was going to focus on not dying.

Reluctantly, I slid my arms around Jace's waist and pulled myself a little closer to him. As he started up the engine, I could smell the mango again, heavier and sweeter than before. Curious, I stretched upwards slightly, so my face was practically buried in his damp curls, before taking a deep breath. Yup. It was definitely the shampoo.

I was going to have to get myself some of whatever it was he was using.

"What are you doing?"

I pulled back, my face flushed. Oh God, that must have looked so weird. I was...sniffing Jace. I quickly ducked my head. "Nothing."

And then we were off.

It was no less incredible than the first time - the wind whipping past us faster than I could have ever imagined. The cold stung my cheeks, sharp and fierce, but somehow it felt _good. _In fact, it felt like we were flying, gliding above the road like a swift bird of prey. My frozen fingers clutched Jace's leather biker jacket. My hands were so cold it hurt. Eventually, when I could take it no longer, I slid my hands a fraction lower, into his pockets. Jace tensed momentarily, before relaxing.

Too soon, we had arrived at Sainsburys. Jace parked quickly, and I dismounted, hopping down from the platform onto the toes of my converse.

As we entered the shop, Jace turned to me with a frown. "So."

I glanced at him, grabbing a trolley. "Hmm?"

"What do we need?"

I thought for a moment. "You go get some food, I'll deal with the other stuff. Back here in fifteen."

The shopping was fairly easy, since I was used to getting it on my own. I got the essentials - toilet paper, shampoo, toothpaste and things like that - and some pasta, instant noodles and bread, knowing that Jace's definition of a meal was either a takeaway or a packet of junk food.

I was surprised to find him waiting for me at the counter with a basketful of food. Like, _real _food. Maybe Jace Herondale had a brain afterall. Pea sized as it may be.

I rooted through my purse, pulling out money to pay for our groceries. Ten, twenty… Twenty five. I shook the purse and a large coin rolled out into my hand. Twenty seven.

_Damn. _I was ten pounds short.

"Um…" I stammered awkwardly, digging around in my wallet. "I…"

I didn't think I could face the humiliation of having to carry the stuff back away because I couldn't afford it. God, why had I left my card at home… I bit my lip, desperately fumbling in my pocket.

"Here," Jace said, smoothly, producing a folded ten pound note from his pocket and handing it to me.

I sighed in relief, accepting it gratefully and handing it over. The grumpy cashier with bleached hair and heavy eyeliner accepted it, frowning and punching digits into his screen, agonisingly slowly. Finally, she handed me a receipt.

As we went to load our stuff, Jace offered her a grin and a cheerful, "Thanks."

Her face lit up and she blushed, averting her eyes to the countertop. I rolled my eyes as she went from sullen to sweet in less than a second, even helping us load the bags. The last thing to go in was a fruit - something orangey and weirdly shaped. I frowned, leaning over to get a closer look, but Jace had already tucked it away and was strolling towards the door. Shrugging, I trotted after him.

"She was...cheerful."

Jace grinned. "Lauren."

"What?"

He smirked, handing me one of the bags and using his free hand to dig around in one of the bags he was holding. With a flourish, he produced the orangey-yellow fruit that I'd seen at the counter. A mango. But there was something -

"She wrote her name on it." Jace turned it so I could see. "And what looks like a phone number." His smile faltered. "She _touched _my mango."

I laughed.

Jace pouted. "But she touched my mango. She _wrote _on my mango."

"You like mangoes, then?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You're shampoo. That's mango too, isn't it?"

For a moment, Jace just stared at me. Then his face broke out into a wide grin. "I _knew _you were smelling me on the bike earlier."

My face reddened, but I didn't bother denying it. "It was nice shampoo."

Jace sniggered, and I punched him lightly in the arm.

"You know what, Titch?" he asked, when he'd finally stopped laughing at me. "We have all this food… But it involves making, and I'm crap at that kind of stuff." He sighed. "Want to go to Taki's instead?"

I glanced down at the shopping in my hands, before raising my eyes to meet his. I smiled. "Yeah. Sure."

-0-

"Argh." Jace spoke quite calmly. "I should have known it was closed."

We stood in front of the darkened cafe, the glittering _Taki's _sign turned off. The windows were so dark it looked like someone had painted over them with tar and the sign hung off at a slight angle. I could still read the bold letters on it quite clearly: _closed. _

For a moment, we both just stared at it. I gave up first, deciding to stare at Jace staring at it. It was much more entertaining. His lips were slightly parted in surprise, and his blonde hair had dried, but was puffy and windswept. In other words, he looked like a little kid who's just been attacked by a fan.

He stared at it for so long that I was beginning to get a little bit concerned. Before I could speak, however, he blinked, turning to me with a vacant frown. His eyes focused, scanning the landscape, and his face lit up as he caught sight of something just down the road.

I followed his gaze, until I was looking at a dingy little fish and chip shop, with cheerful lighting and oil stains across the white tiled floor.

_Oh joy._

I glanced at Jace and he met my gaze. We stood there like that for a while, considering. Considering.

Jace was the first to speak. "Shall we?"

I paused, but my hunger, yet again, got the better of me. I was _starving. _"Yeah, alright."

We headed for the shop, an awkward silence falling between us. The bell jangled as we stepped inside, and the strong smell of fatty oil and, well, chips, filled the air. I tried not to breath too heavily. It was so strong, I felt a little faint. God, it had been ages since I'd last been to one of these…

I sighed. Why did _Taki's _choose tonight, of all nights, to be closed?

Jace glanced at me, looking a little concerned. "You okay? You can wait outside, if you want to. I'll pay."

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

Jace led the way to the counter, with me close behind. The shop was small and practically empty, with the exception of a chubby blonde man who was eating a large portion of fish and chips at the bench in front of the window. The young man behind the counter looked bored. I couldn't blame him.

"What do you want?" Jace asked, digging some money out of his pocket.

Without hesitation, I replied, "Salt and vinegar. No fish."

Jace laughed, leaning forward across the counter to place his order. I fidgeted awkwardly behind him, staring blankly at the back of his head for lack of anything better to do.

The bell jangled loudly, and I glanced up to see two boys enter the little shop, swaying unsteadily on their feet and laughing slightly maniacally. One was short and blonde, with heavy shadows under his eyes, and the other was lanky and dark haired, his lip pierced in about four places. I tensed, uneasily. It didn't exactly take a genius to work out that they were drunk. I knew enough to be wary of them.

The dark haired one sauntered over towards us, and I stepped instinctively closer to Jace, nearly tripping over his shoes. The boy laughed, leaning against the wall. "There's no need to be afraid of me, Sunshine."

I shuddered, not responding. The boy leaned closer, so I could see his icy blue eyes, which were creepily unfocused as he stared into my face.

"There's no reason why a pretty girl like you should be afraid of me," he drawled, his voice slurred. He glanced warily at Jace, who was still arguing with the cashier about something. "No reason at all."

I stepped backwards again, my back brushing against the back of Jace's jacket.

The boy, fortunately, turned away and ignored me for a while, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall, looking like a weird zombie with his pale, almost blue, skin and pink, puffy lips. I shivered, turning away.

Jace chose that moment to turn around and handed me a polystyrene cone filled with golden-brown slices of potato. My stomach grumbled appreciatively at the smell that rose off them, a pang of hunger stabbing at my side.

I speared one of the chips with the little wooden fork I'd been given and raised it to my lips. Mmm… Deep fried, fatty bits of potato had never tasted so good.

"Thanks." I swallowed. "For all of this."

Jace ginned, popping one of his own chips into his mouth. "No problem. I wasn't exactly going to let you starve, Ttich."

I smiled, glancing at the creepy boy behind us. His slightly more sober friend was placing their orders, while he leaned against the wall, looking dead to the world. As we passed, he opened his eyes, smiling at me.

"Hey, Sunshine." He glanced at Jace once again, as though sizing him up. My breath hitched in my throat, and I felt Jace tense beside me.

"Let's go," I muttered, grabbing his sleeve.

The boy grinned vacantly. "Why don't you ditch Blondie, Sunshine." The boy used a couple of slurred swear words that I supposed were describing Jace or maybe me, or both of us. He caught my wrist and I tried not to scream as he drew me closer, so his face was inches from mine. "I could show you things, Sunshine, that Blondie over there couldn't even -"

_Wham._

I wasn't entirely sure what happened, but suddenly, the boy released my wrist, and a cone of chips was pushed into my hands, as a blur of gold flew past me and slammed into the dark-haired boy.

Jace. He now had the other boy pinned to the wall, Jace's forearm pressed into his throat. The boy struggled for breath, scrabbling desperately at Jace's arm. He made an awful gurgling sound, his pale eyes bugging out.

Jace hissed something inaudibly, although it sounded pretty foul. The boy gasped in response, holding his hands up.

"I'm sorry, man," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. Please put me down."

I stood, frozen in horror, unable to move. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel a little bit touched that Jace was standing up for me, but that didn't mean I wanted him to kill the kid.

"Hey, that's enough," the cashier called, stepping out from behind the counter and jolting me out of my stupor. I leapt forward, grabbing Jace by the back of his jacket.

"Jace, it's okay. Let him go," I hissed, trying to pull him off, to no avail.

Jace glanced at me, his golden eyes gleaming with anger. He made no move to free the boy, taking a long, deep breath. After a second, he closed his eyes, dropped his arm and let the boy slump to the ground. I let out a sigh of relief, letting go of Jace's jacket and stepping away.

"You leave her alone," Jace spat, stuffing his hands in his pockets and letting me drag him away. The boy had made no effort to get up, his little blonde friend trying to tug him up off the floor. He didn't look hurt, though, which was a good sign.

I hurried Jace out of the shop, calling a quick apology to the cashier over my shoulder. Jace was still tense and furious, looking like a lion waiting to pounce with his blonde mane of hair

"Jace." He glanced down at me, the fire in his eyes muted now. "Jace, listen to me. I…" I trailed off, realising that I was still holding his chips and handing them back to him awkwardly. "I, uh… Thank you."

He stared at me, uncomprehendingly. "He -"

"It doesn't matter what he did. Thank you. For...protecting me."

Jace relaxed slightly, his eyes softening. "Titch. I always protect you."

I froze, his words ringing in my head. _I always protect you. _It was true, wasn't it? As much as I hated to admit it, in the short time that he had lived with us, Jace had been there for me more than my own brother had. He'd showed up on a dark winter night to come get me. He'd carried me outside and stopped me from making a total fool of myself the night of Magnus's party. As small a thing as it might be, he'd even battled a massive spider for me.

But why did he care?

"I-I'm sure Jonathan would -"

He smiled slowly. "This isn't about Jonathan, Clary."

My real name sounded different on his tongue, pure and melodious and beautiful. It sounded good. That was honestly all I could think as I stared into his golden eyes.

Why were Herondales just so damn confusing? Sometimes, he treated me like the annoying little kid that I suppose I was to him. But times like now, I was something more than just...just Jon's sister. But what?

"What? What is it about?" I pressed him, standing on tiptoe to get closer.

For a moment, he met my eyes, his own soft and warm, and, for a second, I thought he was going to explain. A small part of me felt like I already knew what he was going to say, felt like I had heard him say it before, as flashed of memory danced in front of my eyes. His fingers, grazing my cheek, his soft, warm breath against my collar. Memories that were just fractures, haunting me from the night of Magnus's party. But I needed an answer, needed to set the them straight. He held my gaze for a moment longer, and I tried not to look too pathetic. Then he smiled and dropped his gaze. "Oh, Clarissa. I _would _tell, you, but then I'd have to kill you."

With that, he walked away towards his bike, leaving me alone with just my thoughts and a half empty chip container for company.


	15. Invasion of the Zombie Children

**Chapter Fifteen: Invasion of the Zombie Children**

"You want some more colour in that," Isabelle advised from her position on my bed. She was sprawled across the duvet, chin propped up in her palm, watching me draw.

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore her for about the millionth time. "It's not supposed to be colourful. Anyway, it's just a little assignment. Who cares?"

Isabelle shrugged, rolling over and staring at the ceiling. "A little assignment that you decided to do as soon as I came over."

I laughed. "It won't take long."

"Good. I'm bored."

I rolled my eyes. "Why don't you go find my supposedly 'hot' roommate. I'm sure he'd around somewhere."

Isabelle smirked. "So you admit that he's hot?"

I frowned. "I didn't say that."

Isabelle laughed. "Maybe I should go find your brother instead."

I paused, glancing up from my sketch to glare at her. "Forget it."

Isabelle just smiled, glancing down at her phone as it buzzed in her hand. She stared at the screen for a few seconds, before shaking her head and smirking.

"Who's it this time?" I asked, curiously. "Meliorn? Mark? The one with blue hair? Or that weird one with the tattoos who drove the hearse."

"It was not a hearse," Isabelle huffed. "And no. It's Simon."

I stared at her for a moment, my heart pounding. Had Simon finally pulled through?

"He's got a gig at some cafe on Tuesday." She laughed, and I realised that it was still obviously a very one sided relationship between them - one that Isabelle probably wasn't even aware of.

"Oh really?" I feigned casual interest. "You going?"

She shrugged. "I might. If you come."

I grinned. "I'll be there." I tossed my sketchbook onto my desk. "And I'm done with that now. What do you want to do?"

As it turned out, we didn't do much of anything, except lazing around and talking. At some point, Izzy decided to order pizza, so we ate that while watching a horror movie marathon that would have been slightly terrifying if Isabelle hadn't kept up a running commentary on the fault of each movie - and how hot each actor was.

We'd just finished watching the Blaire Witch Project when I finally decided that I was slightly uncomfortably scared now, and that we should probably stop watching. I didn't say so out loud, obviously, knowing that I'd never live it down. But hey, I was five foot two and weight about as much as your average twelve year old. I had every right to be terrified of scary things.

"I…" Isabelle stretched, yawning loudly as the credits for our sixth film drifted across the screen. "Think I should go back. Considering that I still have work to do and half an hour until lights out."

"You could stay over," I offered, slightly hopefully. The dark windows didn't look wuite so appealing anymore.

Isabelle shook her head. "I have to go. Why, you afraid of the dark, Clarissa?"

I laughed. "No."

"Really. I'll bear that in mind next time you call at two in the morning whining about some movie I forced you to watch."

I shoved her playfully. "I hate you."

"Love you, too, Clary." She stood up, dusting pizza crumbs off her clothes. "But I really do have to leave."

I stood. "Want me to walk over to yours with you?"

She laughed. "What, because you genuinely worry about my safety or because you don't want to be home alone, because your useless, attractive older brother abandoned you for some barbie doll and your even hotter roommate is no where to be seen."

"Both."

Isabelle smiled. "I'll be fine."

"I'll walk downstairs with you."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Have fun walking back up in the dark. Alone."

I cringed. "I'll take my chances."

"Wimp."

True to my word, I accompanied Isabelle downstairs, wrapped up like a sausage roll in my parka, Jon's coat and about six other layers. What can I say? At least I was warm.

"See you, Clary."

"Bye, Iz."

I watched her walk away uneasily, turning back up to the dimly lit staircase. The ancient lightbulb was flickering slightly, making my stomach clench, but there was no way in hell I was taking the lift. If I was assaulted by zombie children in there, no one would hear my screams…

Taking a deep breath, I started up the stairs, trying to walk calmly as my heart pounded in my chest. _Come on, Clary. Breath. You can do this. One foot. Other foot. Left, right, left… Not too fast. _

Suddenly, there was a click, and I panicked, letting out a little squeak as I sprinted up the remainder of the steps, not pausing to find out what it was. I didn't stop until I was standing in front of my door, keys in hand, breathing heavily. I risked a glance downwards. There was no one there. Okay. I'd made it.

But… I let out a shuddering breath. Now I was going to have to turn around to unlock the door. I turned slowly, glancing over my shoulder, before jamming my key into the lock, shaking it around maniacally until it fit, and then twisting so fast that I nearly fell into my flat through the now open door. I recovered quickly, slamming the door behind me and turning around. _You made it. You're okay. You survived. No creepy Zombie children. You'll live._

I padded across the darkened flat, my heart still pounding. My laptop was on the sofa where I'd left it, and I sighed in relief, picking it up and flipping open the lid. I'd just have to calm myself down with some nice, safe -

_Thump_.

Okay, that wasn't normal. That definitely wasn't safe. I froze listening hard, paralysed with fear. When the thump was not followed by any other sounds, I relaxed slightly. It was probably just Magnus doing things in his flat - things I really didn't want to think about. There were no creepy zombie -

_Scratch. _

I fought against a scream rising in my throat. There was no denying it. This time that was definitely coming from inside my flat - from my _room, _by the sound of it. It was like something being dragged down a wall - like fingernails or something…

_Oh God. I was going to die. _

I let out a shuddering sigh, closing my laptop silently and standing up.

Then there was something else, almost like a sigh, still from my room. Definitely female. Crap. No chance it was Jon messing around, then.

_Jesus. _I really was going to be eaten by creepy zombie children. This was the end.

I don't know what possessed me at that moment, whether it was adrenaline or some otherworldly spirit, but I made my way slowly towards the room, my heart beating so fast it practically fluttered in my chest. I wasn't just going to sit there and let the...the thing find me. No way.

I froze just as my hand touched the door handle. I was going to need a weapon. I couldn't go in unprepared. I retreated hastily back to the kitchen, glancing around for something suitable. My eyes landed on my faithful frying pan. Hey, that had worked pretty well last time, hadn't it?

Grasping it tightly in my hands and trying not to panic, I headed for the door again. _Deep breaths, Clary. Deep breaths…_ I was ready. I was going to show that demonic being in my bedroom that Clary Fray is _not _someone you want to mess with.

_Here goes nothing. _

I reached out my hand, and flung open the door, holding my frying pan in the air, totally prepared to face some spectral, terrifying spirit or creature.

Instead, I was greeted by a scream. Loud and high and piercing, that broke every shred of resolve I had left. Without even realising it, I was screaming too, turning, and dodging back out into the hallway.

The other screaming stopped, and I forced myself to bite down on my own panic. There was a long pause, an endless silence, before…

"Titch?"

I breathed a sigh of relief, my knees giving out as I sank to the floor. "Jace."

Strong hands encircled my body, pulling me gently to my feet. I opened my eyes to see a pair of familiar, concerned golden eyes. Jace. I wasn't going to die…

Jace let go of me, and I would have toppled over again if he hadn't caught me by the wrists, keeping me upright. His eyes lowered, dropping to the frying pan that I still clenched in my hand. "A frying pan? Again? Are you joking, Titch? I thought we were past this kind of stuff…"

I let out an almost hysterical laugh, that ended up being somewhat more like a sob. "I thought you were a zombie or something."

Jace laughed. "Been watching too many horror movies, Titch? You know, some of them are rated fifteen. You really shouldn't watch them."

I glared at him. "I'm nineteen." Jace raised an eyebrow, and I wavered. "Almost nineteen."

His expression was unreadable. "Serious?"

I nodded.

"I was going to say twelve, but… You're...young." He almost sounded regretful.

"Well, how old are you, then?"

He grinned. "Twenty one next month. Same year as your brother, remember?"

It was slightly bizarre to be having this conversation here and now, after I'd nearly died of a heart attack. And yet, there was something natural, something comforting, about it, too.

And then the moment was shattered.

"Jace?"

A voice called his name from my bedroom - a distinctly female voice - and that was when I remembered everything. The female sigh, the scratch, the fact that Jace had been in my room… Somehow, these things didn't add up. Or maybe, they added up too well…

My fears were confirmed when a girl stalked into the room, her long, dark hair mussed up slightly. She was dressed in a tiny, skin tight denim skirt, despite the fact that it was, like, three degrees outside, and a white blouse with a few too many buttons undone at the top for my comfort. I could see the top of her hot-pink bra poking out of the top.

Suddenly, I felt a little bit sick, reaching out and shoving Jace away lightly. "What the hell have you been doing in my room?"

Jace froze. "Your room?"

I pointed at the door, which was decorated with multiple posters, including my treasured _Sherlock _and _Lord of the Rings _ones. "Yes. My room. The place where I sleep and store all of my junk."

Jace swore. "I didn't…"

"Let me guess." I tossed the girl a suspicious glare. "You were too _occupied _to notice who's room it was." I was rambling now. "Just so long as it, you know, had a bed and -"

Jace's golden eyes were wide, but neither of us had the chance to continue.

The girl behind Jace was looking just as incredulous as I was. "Who the hell is this."

Jace glanced at her, looking slightly tired. "My flatmate."

"You _live _with her?"

Jace blinked. "It's not like that, Aline."

_Aline. _I already didn't like her. And I felt something else so, something beyond explanation. Was it...jealousy? Or just repulsion at the fact that he had been making out with her in _my room._

She folded her arms. "Yeah? What is it then?"

Jace frowned. "She's Jonathan's sister. And…" He glanced at her, slightly regretfully, torn between her and my equally furious glare. "I...uh, think you should probably leave now."

Her face fell, and, for a moment, I felt a little bad for her. "Leave?" Her voice was high and a little breathy, like she was truly surprised.

Jace nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I, uh…"

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "Fine. Fine. If that's how you want it, fine. I'll leave." She grabbed her bag off the bed and slung it over her shoulder. "Don't expect me to come running back to me. You are a complete and utter…" She trailed off, looking upset. "I thought you were better than this. How long have you been leading _her _on?"

Jace looked uncomfortable. "I'm not… She's not my -"

Aline spluttered. "Save it for someone else, Herondale. I'm not wasting my time on you anymore."

She stalked away on her high heels, looking tough and furious, although I glimpsed tears in her eyes as she swept past me.

Jace hurried after her, looking troubled. "Aline, I -"

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Crap. I love you?"

She slammed the door in his face.

Jace turned around, looking more confused than upset, and I felt something twist in my gut. Did he really care about her? Had I just ruined something for him? Not that I particularly cared. It was Jace we were talking about - and I didn't like Aline much more. Besides, I felt a glimmer of satisfaction...

"You were in my room."

Jace sighed, his cheeks a little flushed. "I told you, I didn't realise -"

"What were you doing in my room?"

Yup. He was definitely blushing. "Jesus, Clary. We were just kissing."

"How swiftly you dismiss your love."

Jace lowered his gaze. "I don't...love her."

I folded my arms. "That makes you even more of a manipulative prick than I thought you were."

Jace flushed. "She…"

"Jace." I was getting tired now. "Why did you make her leave."

"Because it was unfair. I didn't really care about her. Okay, that sounded worse than I meant it to. I mean I don't...really care about her. It was hardly fair."

"You were fine about it before I showed up."

Jace hesitated. "I didn't want you to think I was an idiot."

"Yeah. Well, nice going there."

"...because I care about you."

My breath hitched in my throat. "What?"

Jace smiled slightly. "I didn't want you to think any less of me, because I care, Clary. I…" He cleared his throat, before raising his hand to brush a strand of persistent, flaming red hair off my cheek. "You're beautiful, Clarissa. Anyone ever tell you that before?"

My breath hitched in my throat. We were standing close, impossibly close, in the darkened hallway. A sea of memories stirred as his fingers brushed against my skin, sending jolts of electrical energy through my body. "Maybe once..." I frowned, something nagging at the back of my mind. "Jace. What happened, really, on the night of Magnus's party. You have to tell me. What happened? What did I do?"

Jace smirked, taking my hand in his, and placing it lightly on his cheek, curved around his jawline. "I think you did that, to begin with."

My heart was racing faster than I could imagine, totally betraying me as I was drawn even closer to him, my hand against his cool skin making my fingers tingle. "And then?"

Jace's smile deepened, and, even in the dim light, I could see his fiery eyes softening, as they often did when his eyes found mine, as they did now. Jace's tone was light, mysterious, eager. "I don't remember exactly how it happened. But the gist of it was pretty clear…"

He was so close now, his forehead was practically resting on mine. I could feel his erratic breathing against my skin, feel his heart beating, his pulse hammering against his skin. "Jace."

"Clary."

"Tell me what I did."

"That wouldn't quite cover it. But I can show you."

His lips touched mine, and I closed my eyes as the heavens exploded around me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: CLAAACE. Hope this chapter didn't disappoint :) Always a little nervous when it comes to writing Clace for fear that I'll ruin them... AND MY CHAPTERS ARE GETTING LONG SOMEONE STOP ME I NEED TO SLEEP. SLEEP IS GOOD.<strong>


	16. Socks and Secrets

**I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR THE TOTAL AWKWARDNESS OF THIS CHAPTER BUT I'M AWFUL AT WRITING SCENES LIKE THIS SO PLEASE IGORE THIS THANK YOU BYE. It will get better. I promise.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Socks and Secrets<strong>

I woke up the next morning in a familiar situation: lying on the sofa, with someone's arm wrapped around me and a heap of blankets piled on top of me. On top of _us. _

Only this time, there was no panic. Only complete and utter disbelief as I felt a heartbeat - Jace's heartbeat - beneath my hand, which was rested on his chest, his warm, even breaths tickling my cheek, his arm, slung casually across my shoulder.

He didn't leave. It wasn't a dream.

I sat up slowly, and Jace stirred, his face taking on a slightly troubled expression as he mumbled something incoherent and pulled the blankets up over his face, his eyes still closed. I smiled faintly, a rush of emotions rising to the surface.

Jace had kissed me. _Jace had kissed me. _I wasn't just Jonathan's little sister, he actually _liked _me.

And, after last night, I had fallen asleep _in his arms _while watching some awful action film that Jace seemed to be obsessed with. Not that there was much watching actually going on… But that hadn't mattered. Because at that moment, it was just us. I was his. And he was mine.

_Mine. _

That is, if it hadn't been a stupid one night stand to him. Not that we had _slept _together or anything. God, no. Well… I glanced up at him. We sort of had. But that was just a technicality. We hadn't actually -

_No, Clary, no, not right now. In fact, not ever. No. Don't think about that. Any of might not even like you that much anyway._

I closed my eyes and smiled, despite myself. If I hadn't been lying on a narrow sofa next to the boy of my dreams - the boy of _every _girls' dreams - I would have probably broken into a little victory dance. _Jace Herondale kissed me. _

I dealt with the sudden rush of emotions by daring to reach out and do something that I had been secretly dying to since I first laid eyes upon Jace Herondale. I hesitated just before my fingers made contact with his skin. Did I dare?

I smiled. Yes. Yes, I did.

Stifling a smirk, I wove my fingers into his golden curls and ruffled them lightly. No human should have hair that perfect. Or eyes that perfect. Or anything that perfect. I worked my fingers through his hair until it was satisfyingly mussed up, before sitting back to admire my handiwork. That was better. Much, much better.

"Titch…" A voice grumbled from underneath the blankets. There was a long pause, before Jace sat up, suddenly, pushing my hand away. "You...touched my hair."

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. "Don't worry. You have nice hair."

Jace sighed, running a hand through it, which just made it stick up on one side even more. He frowned at me from under his fine, golden eyelashes. "I know."

It felt like someone had wrapped a frozen hand around my heart, and was squeezing tightly, making it a little bit hard to breathe. Jace was acting like nothing had happened. Maybe I was stupid to think that he actually cared. Maybe that was just a kiss to him - he'd kissed practically every girl in a two mile radius, anyway. Was I just supposed to forget, too?

Then he broke into a smile, and my heart betrayed me by fluttering hopefully. "You have nice hair, too, Titch." He leaned over to play with a strand of it curling the rusty coloured locks around his fingers, before tugging one lightly so I looked up to meet his gaze. "You have...beautiful eyes."

My breath hitched in my throat, despite myself. Why, why, why did he have this effect on me? I was betrayed by my own body when it came to Jace.

But _my _eyes were beautiful? God, how could anyone even begin to explain Jace's…

I must have been staring, because, before I knew it, Jace was leaning in closer, his lips parted and his eyes luminous and hungry. I was pinned against the sofa arm now, my breathing already apprehensively uneven. His lips skimmed my cheek, tracing a gentle pattern towards my mouth. I froze, my heart pounding, paralysed with longing and...terror?

Just as his lips touched mine, I mustered the self control to tear myself away, rolling out of his grip and landing on the floor. It wasn't the most graceful landing ever, I suppose, given that I ended up pulling all the blankets down on top of me and falling hard on my backside. Still, it did the trick. Jace pulled away, his golden eyes wide and the slightest pout plastered across his face.

I smiled inwardly. God, he was so adorable when he did that. Maybe it was because I suddenly saw Jace in a different light, or maybe it was just because I was now allowed to appreciate his radiant hotness, but if I had thought Jace was attractive before… Well, that attraction had spiralled out of control. Still, I managed to keep my arms crossed and frown at him from my perch on the floor, swathed in blankets.

Jace, for once, seemed at a loss for words. It was probably bad for his ego, all this rejection. I doubted that he'd ever been rejected before in his life. Twice in twenty four hours by two different girls was just too much.

"What was that?" I asked, cautiously, mentally debating on how to get my point across without sounding like a twelve year old.

Jace's pout deepened, and I could feel my resolve crumbling. "I was trying to kiss you, Titch. Are you familiar with such a concept? It is a situation which generally involves two people who like - or _loove _- each other, and -" His tone dripped with sarcasm on the love, but only one thing stuck in my mind.

"You like me?" I blurted, unable to stop myself.

Jace smirked. "That was the general implication."

Being the masterfully awkward person that I am, I had absolutely nothing to say in response. I just sat there, blushing and holding a staring competition with the floor - which was winning - to pass time and take my mind off the situation. _What the hell was I supposed to say to something like that? _I spluttered awkwardly in an attempt to get some words out. "You...do?"

Jace's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Clary."

My throat closed up, leaving me unable to breathe, let alone speak. Jace slid off the sofa to land beside me, his eyes studying me almost apprehensively. His golden eyes were innocent and sincere, and he was biting his lip in a way that made my stomach flip ever so slightly. What was I supposed to do now? A cocky, arrogant, snarky Jace Herondale who seemed intent on making my life living hell? That, I could handle. A nervous Herondale, on the other hand…

"Jace," I finally managed. "I don't…"

"Okay." He averted his eyes, dropping them dejectedly to the floor, and I crumbled.

"I...think I might like you, Herondale. Just a little bit." I smiled as his eyes brightened. "But…"

"There's a but?" Jace paused, running an agitated hand through his golden curls. "Clary. I… When I first saw you, I…" Jace frowned. "Well, I thought you were an insane eight year old with a frying pan and a death wish. But other than that, you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. Which, now that I think about it, sounds pretty pedophelic considering that I just said I thought you were eight, but whatever. And…" He smiled. "You made me laugh."

I smiled. Jace Herondale, rambling desperately like I, your typical socially inept person, did. This day was just getting better and better.

Jace's eyes glittered. "Clary. I think I…" He cleared his throat, regaining some of his former composure. "Oh, Clarissa, I don't think you can even begin to comprehend how long I have wanted to do this." He reached out, his finger tracing my jawline, before settling on the back of my neck, and pulling me a little closer to him. "Or this."

He placed a kiss on my cheekbone, light and dancing, agonisingly tantalizing, but I placed my hands on his chest pushed him away. "Jace."

"Clary." He swallowed, and I could see his throat bob with the movement. "There is no greater feeling than seeing you smile, and knowing that I put that smile on your face. No worse torture than watching you hurt, and knowing I did that, too." His gaze met mine, steadily, I thought back to the night of the party, my heart racing. "I want to be _yours _Clary. I don't want to just be _Jonathan's _best friend. I mean, I do, but not to you. I want to be more than than that, and -"

"Jace." I repeated.

He stiffened. "Hmm?"

"Hush." I smiled up at him, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading outwards from my heart, flowing across my skin. "You already are."

I could feel Jace tense beside me, drawing in a sharp breath. Unfortunately, I had to continue. "But what about Jonathan?"

If I had thought Jace looked nervous before, that was nothing compared to how he looked now. He bit his lip, lowering his head so his hair flopped in front of his face. "We…don't tell him anything and hope for the best until he finds out? Keep it a secret."

I smiled, almost teasingly. "What is 'it,' exactly?"

That would be useful to know, right?

Jace smiled, taking my hand dramatically. "My undying love for -"

There was a crash as the door flew open and Jonathan padded into the flat, shaking the raindrops out of his hair, his eyes widening when they landed on us. I could tell from his face that he had overheard at least the last part of the conversation, but probably hadn't known it was me that Jace was talking to.

Jace choked. "...for your...socks. I mean, the _Lazy Town _ones are my favourites, but these are cool, too."

I wanted to whack him in the face for being such a complete idiot, but I restrained myself, glancing down at my feet. Thank god I was actually wearing socks. Even if they did happen to be _Hello Kitty _ones.

Jonathan was still staring when I lifted my head nervously to gauge his reaction. After a moment, it just got a little bit creepy, so I ventured, "Jon. Hi." I tried to sound upbeat. "How was Kaelie's?"

Jonathan's eyes refocused, but I knew instantly that it was the wrong question to ask. Very much the wrong question. His cheeks flushed and his shoulders slumped slightly as he slung his coat over the back of a chair and walked over to us, looking dejected. "We're not...together anymore."

Not together anymore? Jesus, this had been one hell of a night for the occupants of Flat Seven. A relationship centred rollercoaster, and not just for the boys. My head was still spinning with disbelief about all that had happened in the past twenty four hours as I gazed concernedly at him. "She dumped you?"

Jonathan's gaze hardened. "No. I dumped her."

I drew in a sharp breath. This was a plot twist. "Um…" I was at a loss for words. "Why?"

Jonathan glared at me. Wow. I was good at this.

"I found her and some weird blonde kid..." Jonathan trailed off, and I padded over to sit on the sofa next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Jonathan glanced at me, before continuing. "Doing unspeakable things in unspeakable places."

I tried not to protest. I really, really didn't need to hear about any unspeakable things, especially not with Kaelie involved. "That's...awful…" I pulled Jonathan into a hug. "I never liked her."

"I did." Jonathan's words were calm, but I could tell that he was hanging on the edge of self control. "Apparently, the feeling was not returned. Anyway, I'm going to shower." Jonathan stood up, his jaw clenched as he headed for the door. "I still smell of her bloody perfume."

The door slammed, and I whirled around to glare at Jace. "My socks?"

Jace grinned apologetically. "Hey, he didn't suspect anything."

I stared at him, incredulously. "That was because he was just dumped by his cheating prick of a girlfriend."

"He just _dumped _his cheating prick of a girlfriend." Jace leaned back, resting his head on the sofa and closing his eyes.

I sat there silently, for as long as I physically could. My eyes flickered over him, taking in the gentle slope of his jawline, the way the sunlight bounced off his arched cheekbones and turned his hair to molten gold, before I tore my gaze away. When I could take it no longer, I finally blurted out, "We were discussing something."

Jace smiled, eyes still closed. "Were we?" It wasn't really a question, though it may have sounded like it.

"Yes. Before Jon came in."

"Oh? What was it?"

I rolled my eyes. "We were discussing 'it.'"

Jace's lips lifted in a smirk as though he was trying not to laugh. "What about 'it?'"

"About keeping 'it' a secret." I swallowed. "But...we still hadn't worked out what it was."

Jace, opening his eyes and sitting up. "It… Us. You and me. That is, if you want there to be an 'us.' Because -"

I cut him off, smiling, my heart soaring. _You and me. Us. _That sounded pretty amazing to me. "Of course I want there to be an us."

Jace smiled. "That's good."

"Why?" I scooted along the sofa so I was sitting directly above him. "Your ego wouldn't be able to tolerate the blow of another rejection?"

"That _hurts_, Clarissa." Jace's lip puckered slightly as he smiled up at me.

My pulse sped up, despite itself. "I'm _so _sorry, Herondale."

"Apology accepted." Jace smiled, leaning back so his head was resting against my knee. Just that degree of physical contact was enough to make my breath catch, my skin tingle, and make me want to jerk my knee back. I swallowed, trying not to squirm beneath him. "So. Secret?"

I nodded. "Promise."

Jace smiled, closing his eyes again. "I swear on the Angel to guard this secret with my life, Clarissa."

I laughed, nervously. "That's a bit overboard. But seriously…" I glanced at the bathroom door. "If Jonathan finds out, all hell is going to break loose."

Jace didn't react, his expression still impassive, but his tone was grim. "I know."


	17. Anatidaephobia

**This chapter in one word: Ducks. Scared? You should be.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: <strong>**Anatidaephobia**

In the weeks after the breakup, Jonathan entertained himself by living like a zombie. He'd come home every night and mope around on the sofa for several hours. Some nights, he'd head out to work, and then come home and sit around for a few more hours. He'd get off his backside every Wednesday and Saturday to drag himself to football, but other than that, he had turned into a living corpse. He didn't laugh or smile or do much at all, except stare at us blankly, and sometimes pause in his endless sulk to offer complaint in some form or another about life in general.

Which meant, quite obviously, that the relationship between Jace and I was practically nonexistent. I'd love to romanticise it, but, honestly, we didn't have the chance to do much more than offer each other the occasional smile over the next few weeks.

But those smiles…

While our relationship may have been somewhat non existent to everyone else, I still felt like something had changed between us, something strange and different and utterly amazing. Every time Jace smiled at me, or let his hand linger a second too long on mine when we both reached for the cereal carton in the morning, I felt like the luckiest girl on planet earth.

Scratch that. I felt like the luckiest girl in the universe.

For the first time in three years, I, Clary Fray, was taken. In a relationship. Dating. Whatever you would like to call it, I couldn't care less. It was brilliant. And terrifying.

-0-

"Jesus, Jonathan," I sighed, for the millionth time. "You have been sitting on that sofa for thirty six hours."

"It's the weekend."

"So?"

Jonathan glared at me. "I'm depressed, Clarissa, leave me alone."

I flopped down on the sofa beside him, tucking my knees under me and frowning at Jonathan. "Come on, Jon. She's just another… I mean, you've never been like this before. After any of your, oh, about six million breakups."

Jonathan sighed. "But… Kaelie."

Just her name brought another wave of depression over him, and Jonathan's eyes unfocused.

I sighed. This was going to be so much harder than I thought it would be.

Last night, Jace and I had finally decided that our mopey flatmate was starting to get on our nerves, and something was going to have to be done about him. As Jonathan's sister, I was naturally elected to talk to him. Jace watching critically from the kitchen wasn't exactly helping, though.

I met his golden eyes across the flat, and Jace flashed me an encouraging grin - which happened to be incredibly sexy - that made my heart soar. Okay, definitely not what I needed right now.

"Jon." I tugged on his hand, trying to drag him back to earth. "Please listen to me. This is getting disturbing, okay? I, as your sister, am highly concerned. Come on, it's not really that big of a deal, is it? She was just a horrible barbie doll who was probably cheating on you the whole time." I paused. "Sorry. But why does it matter _that _much?"

Jonathan gazed at me out of pale, tired green eyes. "I loved her, Clary. She was different. I actually...cared about her. She wasn't just a fling - we'd been together for almost a year. I mean, she…" Jon ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Clary, she frequently joked about our wedding, for god's sake. I…" His eyes narrowed with pain. "I thought she cared, too."

I honestly wasn't sure what to say, at that point. It was clear that I was fighting a losing battle. Fortunately, my silence didn't bother Jonathan, who was staring off into space again.

Jace apparently also decided that our attempts were in vain, and said, loudly from across the room. "I'm going to...get some fresh air."

I was quick to pounce upon the suggestion. "Yeah, me too." I patted Jonathan's hand I sat up. "She's a prick, Jonathan. Don't lose any sleep over her. And, um…" I cleared my throat. "On the plus side, at least she wasn't a psychopath, right?" This caught Jonathan's attention, and he glanced up at me out of eyes filled with shock and concern. I trailed off. "Not like him…"

"Clary?" Jace called from the hallway.

"Coming!" I stood up quickly, eager to let the subject drop. "See you, Jon. Anytime you feel like moving, that would be good. Maybe you could...get some food. Or order something. Pizza would be nice. Anyway, I'll be home soon."

I chewed my lip, realising that I sounded rather like our mother, before hurrying into the corridor after Jace. I grabbed my coat off the hook and shrugged it over my shoulders, adding a knitted green beanie and gloves and a scarf to match.

When I turned around, Jace was watching me with a growing smile. To tell the truth, it was a little creepy.

"What?" I asked, leaning over to zip up my boots.

Jace turned away. "Nothing." He opened the door holding it aside for me with a low, mocking bow. "You look cute in a beanie."

I laughed. "You look hot in a trenchcoat."

Jace looked mildly offended. "This isn't a trenchcoat."

I snorted. "Looks like one."

"Does not."

I smiled. It was good to know that Jace hadn't changed a bit. "Okay. Whatever."

Jace smiled. "But I still look hot in it?"

"Yes."

"I know. I look hot in everything."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

Jace led the way down the stairs, with me trailing a few steps behind as he strode ahead on his lanky legs. When we reached the bottom, an icy wind hit me directly in the face, making me shiver and lift my scarf to cover my cheeks.

Jace stepped out onto the pavement, pausing momentarily to survey the streets with clear, blazing eyes, before offering me his arm in a mocking edwardian gesture. I took it with a smile as he led me across the road.

After a moment, I couldn't help but ask, "Where are we going?"

Jace shrugged. "Out. Away. I can't stand your heartbroken brother any longer. It's tiresome."

I sighed. "We have to give him a chance."

Jace rolled his eyes. "A week and a half is plenty of time to get over a breakup."

I didn't bother responding. It was more or less true, anyway. Although Jon did have a tendency for melodrama. He and Jace were perfect for each other - constantly vying for the drama queen title.

Jace walked quickly, and it was incredibly difficult to continue to hold his arm while trying to keep up with him. I had to sort of trot beside him, taking about three steps for each of his long strides. To say it was awkward was a severe understatement, but, mercifully, Jace didn't comment.

After a few minutes, we found ourselves at the gate of the park not too far from our house, and Jace released my arm to wriggle the bolt out of the notch and open the door. I smiled, stepping through into the muddy grass.

The park was practically deserted. A few kids were messing around on the colourful play equipment on the far side of the field, and a little boy and his sister were climbing the trees at the fringe of the tiny woods. The duck pond across the park was deserted, with only a few lumps of soggy bread and a few soggy ducks floating around in it.

"This is nice," I smiled, the wind blowing my hair across my face so violently that I could hardly see.

Jace smiled faintly. "It's peaceful. My ears are no longer bleeding."

I laughed. "It's not like Jon actually says anything. He just...mopes around."

"Yeah, well. The looks says it all. The look says too much, actually. It should shut up."

Jace was still walking, so I followed until we got to a little stone fountain a couple of metres away from the pond. At this point, he took a seat on the side of the fountain, staring calmly into the distance. I sat down beside him, wrapping my coat tightly around me. After a moment, Jace's fingers found mine and wrapped around them. My hands were icy cold - maybe fingerless gloves weren't the best idea - and he tsked softly, sandwiching my hands gently between his to warm them. His lightly calloused palms were warm and soothing against my cold skin.

"Thanks," I said - or attempted to, through my chattering teeth.

"You're cold." Jace wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. The gesture was more protective than romantic, but I was grateful nevertheless. I snuggled into his side, burying my head against the tense muscles of his chest, suddenly feeling exhausted.

After a moment, Jace relaxed, resting his chin lightly against the top of my head. His lips gently skimmed my forehead as he nuzzled into my hair. I smiled faintly. This I could get used to. If I ever managed to believe it was actually happening.

I finally pulled away when my backside got totally numb from sitting on a cold stone counter, wriggling out of Jace's arms and standing up slowly. Jace's lips puckered into a pout, and I smiled, stretching, before turning my attention to the loosely flapping ends of my coat. I stood in front of him, fumbling with the zip, our heads nearly touching. I suppose this was just yet another reminder of how short I was, but that couldn't be helped.

When my coat was zipped up all the way, I tilted my head to face Jace, my hair blowing out in the wind and catching him almost directly in the eyes.

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not as I stuffed it back under my hat. The surprise on his face was comical.

"Sorry."

"That's okay, Fray," Jace smiled. "Rhyming. Nice." He smiled thoughtfully at me. "I always liked the name Morgenstern - when I was little, I used to pretend I was Jon's brother. Morning star…"

"Well, you can have it," I said, shaking my head. I rarely used my double-barrelled surname, typically settling for my mother's more mundane name as opposed to my father's weird swiss-or-something-along-those-lines one.

Jace laughed, "Really, Miss Morgenstern? You certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?"

The implications of my words hit me like a dumpster and I flushed. "No, I didn't mean…"

Jace smirked, and I realised that, as usual, it didn't really matter what I said anymore. There was no stopping Jace when he got started.

He had a mischievous smile plastered across his smug, golden face as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in, so I was practically straddling his lap, my knees resting against the side of the ledge and my hands on his shoulders for support.

"Why, Mister Herondale." I was pretty sure I was blushing. "That was very forward of you."

Jace smirked. "I could hardly control myse-"

He broke off very suddenly, his face going slack. His cheeks paled and his golden eyes widened and focused on something directly over my shoulder.

"Jace?" I was slightly concerned at this point, pushing myself back to my feet and staring at him. "You okay?"

He didn't respond, his face still frozen in an expression of total horror.

Uneasily, I turned around, scanning the nearby area with my eyes, my confusion growing by the second. As far as I could see, there was nothing there. Nothing but trees and grass, a few icy puddles, an old pink sock lying on the floor, a slightly murky duck pond and…

_Oh. _

A massive, unbelievable fat duck, waddling slowly towards us. I glanced at Jace once again, just to be sure. Yep, it was definitely the duck he was staring at - as though it was some hellish zombie or something.

"Jace?" I was definitely concerned now. What if he was having some kind of hallucination-causing plague attack, or something along those lines. "Jace...it's just a -"

"Duck." Jace's lips barely moved.

"Yes." I paused. "I know it's a duck." Okay, so he wasn't hallucinating. "Jace, are you okay? I think we should get you back home…"

"No!" Jace grabbed my wrist before I could act. "No, don't move. You'll startle it. It may attack."

This was just getting weird, now. I wasn't whether to laugh or phone an ambulance. "Jace. If this is a joke, please stop now."

"Anas platyrhynchos," Jace hissed, softly. "No teeth, but they use their beaks to swallow prey whole."

Right, that was _enough_. "Jace Herondale, if you don't stop this now, I swear I'm going to phone 999, and then book you a bed in a mental hospital."

Unfortunately, I never got the chance. At that exact moment, the duck decided to waddle a little bit closer, inquisitively pecking Jace's shoe with it's orangey beak.

Jace let out a fierce battle cry, kicking out at the giant mallard that had just taking an interest in his battered converse. His foot connected with the duck's chest with a sickening crunch, and it went flying backwards, landing in a frosty puddle and sending a spray of ice and water up into the air.

For a moment, no one reacted. Jace was tense next to me, his breathing ragged and his eyes still wide. The duck blinked at us with its weird, horizontal eyelids, still sitting in the icy mud, in a state of total shock.

Neither of us breathed as we waited for it to react.

And then it was on its stumpy webbed feet, and, with a furious quack, lunged for us, wings flapping as it waddled towards us alarmingly fast.

Jace let out a strangled yell of surprise and terror and freaked out completely, grabbing my wrist and racing towards the gate. Apparently, Jace's fear was contagious. I needed no encouragement, pure horror coursing through my veins as I stumbled after Jace, breaking into a full on sprint.

I was panting hard, my heart thumping almost painfully quickly. My felt as though I had just inhaled a pair of ice cubes, which were lodged in each lung, but I didn't stop. Despite my height, I managed to keep up with my taller companion, running as though our lives depended on it.

The duck was still squawking furiously as it chased us, and I could feel the flap of its feathery wings against my ankles - although that part was probably just my hyperactive imagination.

We reached the gate and both scrambled to get out. Naturally, this didn't work very well, and we ended up sandwiched in the gate, neither of us able to move. Jace gasped, whirling around to look at the duck, before losing it completely and yelping in panic, giving me a hefty shove through the gate. Fortunately, this just about freed us, and we both tumbled forward onto the pavement.

I landed hard on the gravel, and would have scraped the skin off my knees and elbows had I not been wearing thick jeans and a padded coat. As it was, Jace managed to skin his hands, leaving them raw and bloody. I lay in the dust for a moment, winded, but Jace didn't pause, immediately scrambling to his feet and slamming the gate shut, bolting it just as the duck reached the metal bars.

He sighed in relief, slumping against the wall and cradling his wounded hands to his chest. We were both panting, and I felt weak and trembly due to the sudden rush of adrenaline that was slowly ebbing from my body.

After a moment, a furious flapping of wings sounded from the other side of the gate, and Jace turned to face me with a horrified expression.

"Do ducks...fly?" He panted, his face paling even further.

My wide eyed stare was answer enough.

"_Shit._" Jace swore, scrambling to his feet and extending a hand to me. I took it and he pulled me quickly off my feet. Then we were running again.

"Bloodthirsty little beasts…" Jace panted as as we raced across the roads, nearly getting run over at least four times.

I didn't disagree.

Although there was no doubt that the duck was no longer following us, we didn't stop running until we were safely back home.

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><p><strong>AN: Hello. I'm back. Sorry about that. I've had this chapter ready since about Friday, but was down, so... Anyway. Yes. Hope you guys like this one :) It was fun to write... *evil laugh* <strong>


	18. Texts from Titch

**Chapter Eighteen: Texts from Titch**

By the following Monday, Jonathan finally dragged himself off the sofa - although it was mostly just because he had to get to a lecture or something like that. After a week and a half of a state of total, zombie-like blankness, it was a massive relief when he emerged from the bathroom the next morning, dressed in black from head to toe, but looking more alive than he had in ages.

"What's with the ninja gear?" I asked, as he sloshed some milk over his cereal and scowled at the fork that he had accidentally retrieved from the drawer, as though he was willing it to turn into a spoon.

Jonathan glared at me. "I'm mourning."

Jace snorted, earning himself another glare from Jon.

"Still?" I rolled my eyes.

Jonathan nodded firmly. "But I'm not so...hung up over it anymore."

"That's a relief."

Jonathan frowned. "I guess. Kaelie was a…" He trailed off, stuffing a forkful of cereal into his mouth. Jeez, that kid was lazy. The spoons were, like, literally a metre away, in the drawer a few paces behind his head. "Anyway. I don't care about her. Not anymore."

"Good." I smiled. "She didn't deserve that level of mourning."

"Which is why I'm done." Jonathan smiled. "She's dead to me. I can't bring myself to care anymore."

I paused. "So...you're eating cereal with a fork?"

Jonathan frowned. "Shut up."

Snorting, I stood up, glancing at the clock on the wall above the sink. "I've got to go. Mr. Blackthorn will roast me alive if I'm late."

I dumped my bowl in the skin, shimmying into my coat and slinging my bag over my shoulder. On my way to the door, I planted a hasty kiss on Jonathan's forehead. "Take care of yourself, okay? Love you. Bye."

Jonathan ventured a small smile. "Bye, _Mum_."

I rolled my eyes, poking my tongue out at Jonathan over my shoulder.

"Hey." Jace's voice stopped me in my tracks - innocent and playful. Just the type of tone that sent out a flashing red warning to my brain cells. "Don't I get a kiss, too?"

I shot him a death glare over my shoulder. Jace had just brutally axed down subtlety forever. What the hell did he think he was doing?

He simply smiled at me, his golden eyes gleaming.

Jonathan, fortunately, didn't take much notice, passing it off as a joke. Which was fortunate, for all our sakes. He simply laughed and flashed Jace a vaguely offensive gesture with his hand.

Jace more or less ignored him, his eyes still fixed on mine. I frowned, trying very hard not to think about the endearing way his blonde hair stuck up in a wild halo around his head, or the hole in the sleeve of his blue pajama shirt. Somehow, tiny flaws only made him more _perfect. _They made him human.

I broke the eye contact quickly, before his flaming eyes ensnared me. I was wise to his tricks by now.

"In your dreams, Herondale," I said, smoothly, sidestepping him and heading for the door. "See you, Jon. Jace."

"Titch."

I turned around, sighing. "What?"

Jace held out a hand, something metal gleaming in his palm. "Your phone. Don't forget that. You never know when Six Fingered Nigel could strike again."

I frowned. I could have sworn I'd put my phone in my bag this morning when I was getting ready… Oh well. Apparently not. I accepted it, rolling my eyes at Jace, not bothering to thank him. Especially not after bringing Nigel up. I still wasn't ready to relive the trauma of that night.

Pocketing my phone, I stepped outside and closed the front door behind me. That boy was going to be the death of me. Literally. If Jonathan found out what was going on behind his back… Well. Death would seem like a nice alternative. Especially for Jace.

Still, I got the feeling that he didn't know quite what his best friend was capable of doing. I had only ever seen Jonathan truly angry once before, and it had not been a pretty sight - definitely not one that I wanted to relive. Jace was clearly underestimating the true potential of Jonathan's temper. Jace couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen if Jon discovered what was going on. For both of our sakes, I hoped he would never find out.

-0-

My phone buzzed in my pocket, as I took my seat beside Isabelle in the near empty library, cradling a sandwich under my coat. I dumped my bag on the table, quickly glancing around for demonic librarian. She was sitting behind her desk, her piggy eyes half closed. Okay. That was good.

I wrestled my sandwich out of my coat, trying not to crinkle the plastic wrapping and alert Mrs. Starkweather - the aforementioned demon librarian - to the 'illegal substance' I had just smuggled in.

"Naughty, naughty," Isabelle tutted, smiling up at me. "Did you bring me any food, Clarissa?"

I rolled my eyes. "You've already eaten, like, eight bowls of that nasty canteen pasta. This is my _lunch. _I had a twenty minute lecture from Mr. Blackthorn about some exhibition coming up and some pieces he wants me to submit…" I smiled slightly. "My mum will be pleased with that."

Isabelle let out a tiny squeal, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "Clary, that's amazing!"

I laughed, shrugging her off. "It's just an exhibition, Iz."

Isabelle ruffled my hair affectionately. "Just an exhibition? Come on, Clary, you know it's incredible." She grinned. "Little Clare-Bear's first exhibition. This is a cause for great celebration."

I sighed. "Definitely not. No parties."

Isabelle pouted, but didn't argue. "When is it?"

"Next month." I flushed, attempting to avert the topic of conversation. I glanced at the bracelet on her wrist - golden and gleaming, in the shape of a...snake? Definitely new. "How's Meliorn?"

Isabelle grinned, cheerfully. "Oh, we broke up weeks ago. He's dating some chick called...Hayley or something. Ugly girl. Her makeup is heavier than Magnus's fat cat."

"Kaelie," I corrected, feeling slightly ill as the connection fell into place. Oh god, it should have been obvious. Jonathan had told me about Meliorn's part in the story. I just hadn't put the pieces together fast enough. "That's...harsh."

Isabelle shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I suppose she's pretty enough, but she's such a bi-"

"Yeah," I stopped her, glancing nervously at Mrs. Starkweather. "I know."

Isabelle stared at me for a few seconds, before realisation dawned on her, and her blue eyes softened. "Oh yeah. Jonathan… I should have known. I was there."

I gaped at her. "What?"

"At the party. It was pretty unpleasant. Jonathan and Meliorn had a full on cat fight, like a pair of teenage girls. Meliorn ended up with a nosebleed, but not much else happened. Kaelie just stood there like a freaking queen or something." Isabelle scowled. "I would skin that girl alive if I got the chance. And then I'd feed the little pieces to my cat."

My phone buzzed once again before I had time to respond.

Isabelle glanced down at the textbook open on the table in front of her with extreme distaste. "You should probably get that."

Sighing, I fumbled around inside my pocket, my fingers closing around my phone and wrenching it out of my pocket. After flicking a few mysterious crumbs off the screen, I flicked it on.

One text from…

_MrSexy?_

"What the hell?" I murmured, clicking on the message with some degree of apprehension. I was pretty damn sure I did _not _have a contact under...that name.

The message, fortunately, cleared the mystery to some level.

MrSexy_: Your brother is watching Red Dwarf. I miss you._

I choked on my sandwich, accidentally dropping the phone into my lap. I wasn't sure whether I should be slightly worried, amused or furious. _Red Dwarf? _I could think of only one person who could be so cruel. Well, at least there was no doubt who the number belonged to. At least, that was what I hoped as I nervously typed:

Me: _Jace?_

I must have been staring at my phone while I waited for a response, because Isabelle sounded more than a little concerned when she hissed my name across the table, flicking a crumpled piece of paper at me head. "Clary!"

I glanced up. "Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've called you at least seven times. Is everything okay? You look a little...pale. Has the Grim Reaper found your phone number?"

I glanced back at the screen. "I...don't think so."

Isabelle frowned, unsure of whether I was joking or not. "What?"

At that moment, I felt my phone vibrate once more in my hand, and leapt at the opportunity, scrambling to unlock it.

"You don't think so?" Isabelle hissed.

I ignored her.

MrSexy: _...maybe…_

I rolled my eyes, responding quickly.

Me_: Jace, that's enough. How did you even get my number?_

A pause.

MrSexy: ;)

That explained why my phone hadn't been in my bag this morning - where I was sure I had left it. As for how he had gotten into my phone… Well. It wasn't my fault that I couldn't remember multiple digit passcodes.

Me: _Right. I'm changing the name though_

MrSexy: _I'm not_

Me: _What? _

MrSexy: _Yours is staying 'Titch'_

Me: _Great_

Me: ..._Bye, Herondale_

MrSexy: _Leaving already? You wound me so_

MrSexy: _See you, Titch_

Me: _Not if I see you first_

MrSexy: _Good luck with that_

MrSexy: _And nice socks, by the way_

I glanced down at my socks before I could stop myself. Okay. I mean, _Tom and Jerry _wasn't that bad, right? I doubt Jace had actually noticed, anyway.

Me: _THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH TOM AND JERRY_

Me: _Okay that's enough_

Me: _Bye_

Jace: _Ave Atque Vale_

Me: ?

Jace: _Hail and Farewell, Titch_

I rolled my eyes, before quickly editing the contact name. It could get problematic if anyone saw it otherwise. And I could afford him the satisfaction of keeping it.

Still, I couldn't help but smile slightly as I slipped my phone back in my pocket, Isabelle still staring incredulously at me.

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><p><strong>AN: HAPPY BELATED VALENTINES DAY GUYS! Hope you like this chapter :) Sorry it took soo loong... Thanks again for your awesome reviews :)<strong>


	19. Fears and Fangirls

**Chapter Nineteen: Fears and Fangirls**

I knew something was wrong as soon as I stepped into the flat. The first clue was the silence. The TV wasn't blaring through Jonathan's awful speakers, the shower wasn't running and my brother wasn't complaining about or swearing loudly at something. In fact, it would have been quite peaceful, if it wasn't so unnerving.

Then I saw the shoes. They were lying neatly a few feet to my left, the toes aligned perfectly with each other. They were silver and sparkly and had the highest heels I had ever seen in my life. They were definitely a girl's shoes. But they sure as hell weren't mine.

I stood, frozen, in the hallway for several moment's. Jonathan couldn't have brought another girl home already, could he? He'd only gotten over the Kaelie scandal about a week ago, and, while he was cheerful and perky now, there was no way he would move on so quickly.

But it couldn't be Jace, could it…? I mean, he wouldn't do that. Not to me. Sure, we hadn't been particularly romantically involved lately, with Jonathan around so much, but… What if he'd gotten bored, given up. Jonathan was his best friend after all. Maybe he thought it better to play it safe.

I shrugged the thought off, shuddering at how jealous and overprotective my thoughts had become. Ick. It was probably nothing, anyway. There had to be a logical explanation.

Sliding my shoes off, I padded into the kitchen.

The first thing that greeted me was the sea of red curls. Scarlet coloured hair - and lots of it. Locks of it spilled out over the kitchen table, the rest of it cascading down and skimming the seat of the chair.

Then my eyes were drawn to the figure beneath it. She was swamped in her own hair, but I could still make out a tall, slender, girlish frame beneath the gentle waves.

"Clary?"

My brother's voice drew me out of my daze.

I responded with something highly intelligent that probably sounded a little like, "Gah."

I wasn't sure what was more surprising. The fact that my brother was actually apparently making an effort to do some work for once - judging by the papers spread out around him and the black biro that he was chewing on - or the idea that he had brought another girl home so soon after his dramatic little heartbreak.

A pretty girl, too.

She had turned around to look at me come in, and I was struck by how _beautiful _she was. I mean, most of my brother's girlfriends were at least decent looking, although most of them were twiggy barbie dolls with mild eating disorders. This girl? She was something else.

She was slender, but not overly skinny, and relatively tall - built like an elf or something of that sort. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, glimmering and entrancing. Her skin was pale, but not ghostly, and her hair was the finest shade of scarlet I had ever seen.

Wow. She put everything about my appearance to absolute shame. My skin was not dissimilar to hers, in many respects, but while hers was smooth and flawless, mine was scattered with freckles and looked pasty and childish. My red hair had always been awkward and unruly - a source of despair for my mother, aunts and grandmothers. I'd always wanted to dye it, to make it more _normal _looking. This girl, though, made the colour red look _desirable. _

"Clary." Jon sounded mildly nervous and possible a little bit annoyed this time. I tore my gaze away from the freakishly pretty girl sitting beside him, and swallowed, making an effort not to make any more hyper intelligent sounds.

"Mm hmm." I glanced back at the girl, half expecting her to shoot me a frosty glare with those piercing blue eyes of hers, as most of Jonathan's girlfriends did, but instead, she broke into a smile, her face softening. If anything, she was only more pretty when she smiled. Life was unfair. Some people had it all.

"You must be Clary!" She beamed. "Jonathan's told me _all _about you. You're a really good artist, right? I've seen your work around the university. It's incredible."

Well, this was embarrassing. "Uh, thanks… Jonathan hasn't," I glared pointedly at him, "mentioned you."

To my surprise, she just smiled. "Well, we haven't known each other long. He only switched courses this term, and he's in most of my classes now."

I glanced at Jon. This was escalating - I didn't particularly want to know where.

To my surprise, he blushed a brilliant shade of scarlet, practically matching the colour of his new _friend's _hair. "We're studying." He pointedly gestured at the sheets of paper with his pen, and his laptop perched precariously on a textbook to his left. "Apparently I'm a little behind on the coursework, considering that I've just switched and everything." He ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Seelie's helping me catch up."

Seelie. What a...weird name. I guess a girl like her would only settle for something a little different.

But wait. Seelie? Like, Seelie _Queen_? As in, the one that Isabelle was always going on about - the one with the insane parties in her insane mansion that Isabelle raved about afterwards for months. The Seelie who apparently had rich foreign parents, and was some kind of model or something? Jesus. Did my brother know who he was tangling with here?

"Seelie?" I choked.

She laughed. "Seelie Queen. That's me."

Jonathan frowned. "You know her?"

I gulped. "Uh, I know _of _her."

Seelie smiled once again, revealing her perfect, shimmering white teeth.

Jonathan's eyes flitted briefly between us both, growing increasingly nervous as the silence drew on longer, no one attempting to make conversating.

"Well, Clary," he said, eventually. "We'd better get back to studying…"

I nodded, backing away and tipping over the bag that I had literally just dumped on the floor. Just about managing to steady myself on the counter, I continued to back away, forcing a smile. "Okay. I'll leave you to it. It was, um, nice meeting you."

Jonathan glared at me, and I turned around, scampering out of the room and heading for the safe privacy of my bedroom.

Unfortunately, I was mistaken. My bedroom was neither safe, nor private.

I let out a muffled squeak as I opened the door to the darkened room and walked right into something warm and _breathing_. Fortunately, the warm breathing thing also had arms, which caught me before I could fall back out of my bedroom and land on my backside on the living room floor.

"Jace!" I hissed. "What the hell? This is my room."

His golden eyes glinted in the darkness, the dim lighting from the kitchen catching the flecks of amber in his eyes. "I know."

After a moment, he seemed to realise that he was still holding onto my arms, his hands encircling my biceps (which Jon often claimed were non existent, but I chose to ignore him). He dropped his hands to his sides, and I folded my arms, glaring at him.

"What are you doing, Herondale?"

Jace smiled innocently. "Jonathan broke the TV. Your brother owns no books. I was bored." He showed me the battered copy of the Lord of the Rings that he was holding in his hands. In other words, my extremely precious first edition copies that my parents had splurged on for my sixteenth birthday. If it had been anyone else, I would have clawed their face off with my fingernails, but innocent Herondales were too hard to resist. That and the thought of turning Jace into a fangirl. Fanboy. Whatever.

So I simply smiled. "You like the Lord of the Rings?"

He shrugged. "I've seen all of the movies."

Wow. This was going to have to be fixed. Now. "You're a disgrace, Herondale."

Jace raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

I rolled my eyes, eyeing the book in his hands pointedly. "Read it." Anyway, I doubted that was the only reason Jace had been in my room. Those false, overly innocent eyes he was giving me were warning enough. I pushed past him in the doorway and walked into my bedroom, Jace trailing in my wake. "So. What were you _really _doing?"

Jace smiled. "I was waiting for you. While reading, obviously. Jon's being boring, Alec's out of town for the week and Jordan's probably canoodling with Maia somewhere. I figured you were my last resort, Titch." He frowned. "And also I was actually trying to hijack your laptop, because no other machine in this house is functioning, but, as it turns out, your password was...better than your phone one."

I stared at him, considering this. Several different feelings registered, but none stepped up to take control. Should I be hurt? Maybe. But why would he want to spend unnecessary time with me. Especially when I was so awkward that I couldn't even formulate a proper verbal response. Like now. Should I be annoyed? Probably. Instead, I was just curious. "What did you try?"

He shrugged. "Several different variations of Herondale and Jace. I even tried Clace once, since I figured you were into that shipping stuff. Judging by the hand-drawn posters on your wall of "Percabeth" and...does that say peni-"

"_Pee_ta and Kat_niss_," I cut him off, hurriedly.

Jace snorted. "My point precisely."

My uselessly slow brain finally processed what he had actually been saying. About my password. This conversation thing really wasn't going well for me today, was it? "You think the whole world revolves around you, don't you?"

"Well…" Jace seemed to deflate slightly, but still managed to shoot me what appeared to be a seductive attempt at a grin. "I know yours does."

"Right." I laughed, hardly trusting myself to speak. _Stick to friendly. Teasing. Nothing has changed, Clary_. "Dream on, Herondale."

Jace pouted. "Doesn't it?"

"No. My world revolves around the sun. As should yours."

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"But, Titch, I'm far more radiant than any old sun."

I smiled. _Yes. Yes you are. _

Jesus, my brain definitely wasn't functioning today. I just hoped I hadn't said that aloud.

Apparently my tongue possessed more self control than the rest of me did, and, judging by the expectant look on Jace's tanned face, I hadn't said anything that would want to make me curl up into a ball of shame.

So instead I just said, "Well, you're definitely more radiant than my father's son."

Wow, Clary. Pun game going strong, huh?

Jace shot one of his typical, fragmented smirks, where one half of his face looked as though it had decided to laugh, while the other remained vaguely impassive. "I'm sure. Although I really have no idea what you said."

"Don't worry about it." I was probably blushing by now. Yup, definitely blushing.

"Clary."

I glanced up. Jace was sitting up now, his knees drawn up to his chest as he leant against the headboard of my bed. His golden eyes had softened their blazing intensity. My heart melted with them. God, he had beautiful eyes.

"Why are you still afraid?"

This caught me off guard. "What?"

Jace smiled softly. "You act like...you're still scared. Not of me, exactly. But of what's happening. Between us."

"Jace, I don't -"

Jace smiled. "You don't have to hide it anymore, Clary. Well, except around Jonathan. Then you should definitely hide it. But… I have been absolutely crazy about you since the moment you whacked me with a frying pan. And holding onto that, keeping that from you, was impossibly difficult."

I exhaled softly. "Really?"

There was a pause. "Really to which bit? The part about you not letting Jon find out, or the bit where I was telling you about the -"

"You said you'd been crazy about me since the frying pan incident."

Jace smirked. "It has a title now? But yes. I suppose I have. I didn't know it yet, though. Not until I saw you on the night of Magnus's party. Before that you were...off limits. You were Jonathan's little sister - and you were just a kid, I guess. Well, not _just _a kid. You were pretty, always. That night, you were beautiful." He smiled, reaching over to play with a strand of my hair. "And you've been beautiful ever since." He paused. "To me, I mean."

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth spreading outwards from my heart. "That was nice."

Jace grinned. "Yeah, well. It was true."

I smiled, slipping my hand into his on the bed. It was a simple enough gesture, but Jace looked taken aback, his wide eyes meeting mine momentarily, before his fingers tightened around my own.

And maybe he was right. Or had been.

But I wasn't afraid anymore. If Jace wanted to be mine, well… I would have him. As creepy as that sounded. He wasn't taking pity on me. He cared - I believed he did. He wanted this as much as I did. I wasn't holding him back, wasn't inadequate to him. And maybe it was stupid, but I trusted Jace enough to give him something I hadn't loaned out in a while. My heart. Because, from now on, I wasn't going to hold back.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry this took a while. I've been busy. But should be able to update more often now. Maybe. <strong>

**Anyway, hope you like this one. And the plot is going to kick in...very soon...I just need to set up some more things right now. I promise for more exciting chapters soon. **

***evil laugh***


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